


Of Humans and Aliens

by 0KKULTiC



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien/Human Relationships, Aliens, Car Accidents, Cute, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Slice of Life, Summer, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23872291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0KKULTiC/pseuds/0KKULTiC
Summary: Most people look forward to summer break, but not Wooyoung. Being the good grandson he is, he spends his summers helping his grandmother around the house - which means living with her. Every summer it's the same. The same house with the same neighbors, same shops manned by the same people, all baking under the same relentless sun, accompanied by the same cicada song. Every summer is exactly the same.Until it's not.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Song Mingi
Comments: 32
Kudos: 76
Collections: Wooyoung Love Central Fic Fest 2019





	1. Humans, Aliens and Crash Landing

The drone of cicadas is inescapable during the summertime. They sing their song ceaselessly in a loud proclamation of their transient presence. Their arrival signals the beginning of the hot season. Seemingly endless days run into one another like wet watercolors bleeding into one another, the edges of dawn and dusk runny and muddy. With that song comes the unrelenting sun, light so insistent on beaming down that one would think she’s making up for lost time over the winter. Beneath her glimmer the Earth bakes at a low simmer, sweat sticking to skin as plants cling to the morning dew.

This is reality. This is the summer Jung Wooyoung knows.

It is a season of constants, of predictability. It’s the season that he spends at his grandmother’s lazing around like an overfed bodega cat under the guise of being helpful. Though many associate summertime with change - the shift of paradigm from schooltime structure to freedom, the cocoon of metamorphosis a person takes shelter in between semesters - for Wooyoung it’s always the opposite.

  
Summer is the season of stagnation.

  
In spite of the heat, everything freezes under the sun. The same seasonal stalls open their doors for the same hours on the same street. They ask the same questions even though the answers never change. The sameness of it all is what helps summer days slow into a lazy crawl, and, for that, Wooyoung is grateful. He’s content to let the days drag out as long as possible, all too understanding of the reality that even this - the endless summer - is not forever.

Wooyoung melts into the cool tile of his grandmother’s sun room as he watches clouds amble across the sky. He’s not sure why he does this. It’s sticky, sweaty, and hot at her place. Every room has at least one fan - oftentimes two, three in the living room, plus a few hand fans littered across sofas or sitting on side tables. Yet, for some reason, he just likes to exacerbate it by sunning himself. There’s something oddly therapeutic about sweating. He tells himself, it’s a detox. People pay exorbitant amounts for saunas. Meanwhile he gets to do this for free.

His eyelids sag as if affixed to twenty kilo weights. He’ll probably fall asleep again. It’s the afternoon now, and grandma won’t need help again until early evening for dinner time. It’s a perfect time and place for a nap. Nothing can lull him to sleep quite like the whirring of fans and screeching of cicadas.

  
Wooyoung shuts his eyes, readily giving himself over to his drowsiness. He very nearly falls unconscious splayed across the tile of the floor, but something fills his ears unsettlingly. He pries his eyes open and sits up, stomach knotted with dread and confusion.

Silence.

Something isn’t right. He can feel it in the air, and it seeps into his sweaty skin. 

  
What happened to the cicada’s song?

Wooyoung peels himself off of the floor and steps out onto the porch. His grandmother’s house has a modest backyard that quickly gives way to shrubby woods. That’s why it’s so loud, usually those trees out back are covered with cicadas.

The eerie silence brings goosebumps to Wooyoung’s skin in spite of the heat. He steps into the yard, searching. For what? He doesn’t know. 

A soft rumble runs through the ground. It echoes up the pads of Wooyoung’s feet.

An earthquake?

Suddenly, a flash of light ignites amidst the trees, and following it the sound of trunks snapping with a clap of thunder.

“Lightning?” Wooyoung gasps, eyes shooting up to the sky. There isn’t a cloud in sight - so how could there possibly be lightning? His feet carry him toward the answer. Roots and underbrush poke and prod his bare feet uncomfortably, but even so he rushes inward. Curiosity, caution, paranoia and stress all brew inside of him as he seeks out his answer.

  
Summer is always the same.

But this is different.

This is interesting, this is new, this is unprecedented, and he needs to know what this is. The sound of hissing reaches his ears, and he sees the air thicken with smoke. Wooyoung hacks and coughs as he navigates the noxious gas, eyes watering and curiosity piqued. He stumbles over felled trees tattood with deep impressions and dark burn marks until finally reaching what he assumes is the epicenter.

Bright sunlight shines down and illuminates the noxious smoke as if it were the clouds of the heavens. The landscape begins to take shape as the smoke very gradually thins out. Just vague lines and silhouettes. Large overturned lumps wrought with crags and ruin from whatever mysterious damage had been incurred.

“H-Hello?” Wooyoung calls out timidly. For some reason, he feels watched. Usually there would be thousands of eyes on him as he walked the woods. But, still, it is completely silent. Where are the cicadas?

The smoke clears more and more, almost like a curtain being pulled aside, and as it subsides, what it reveals makes Wooyoung question if he’d fallen asleep back on the tile after all. Metal glints in the slightly obscured sunlight, and from it protrudes all manner of wreckage. Things like wires and scrap jut out from a huge mass that Wooyoung now realizes is sitting in a crater.

No, Wooyoung tells himself, this is not real.

He walks up to the heap just to assure himself of this and hesitantly nudges it with his toe. Though it appears rough, the surface of the peculiar object is incredibly smooth. It’s almost alarming. Perhaps it would be, if only it was real.

But then a silhouette emerges from all of it, and Wooyoung forgets about everything. His mind goes completely and utterly blank because no matter how unbelievable things are, they certainly feel real. And the figure rising from the center of it all can certainly be really threatening. 

They stretch upward endlessly, almost twice Wooyoung’s height.

Fear freezes Wooyoung in place. All he can do is gawk as the figure rises up over him, eclipsing the sun above. The human hopes that whatever this strange thing is, it isn’t dangerous or unstable or liable to explode. 

Suddenly, the figure collapses. Wooyoung gasps as the silhouette falls straight toward him. He leaps out of the way as the shadow rolls down the side of the metal heap.

“Oh my god,” Wooyoung murmurs.

His heart seizes with dread. He’s at a complete loss, face to face with an unconscious boy wearing only scrapes and bruises.

Wooyoung runs. He doesn’t think about it. Doesn’t look back, either. He just runs back to the familiarity of grandma’s, not minding the way debris scrapes his feet or the suffocating smog of sweat and smoke.

The cicadas are silent for the rest of the day.


	2. Humans, Aliens and Pest Control

“Wooyoung!”

“Coming!” Wooyoung responds to the call of his grandmother dutifully, setting his headphones down on the arm of the couch. Pain echoes up from the soles of his feet, making him wince. A fitful sleep and scary dreams are to account for that, he reckons. He steps out into the backyard to see his grandmother hanging laundry on the clothesline. That’s the sort of stuff he’s supposed to help with, but she insists she do it herself anyway. 

“What is it, grandma?”

She sighs, holding up a thin cardigan, “Another one.” She frowns.

“Oh- Oh no.”

The flaw in the garment is impossible to miss. There are holes everywhere, ranging in size from coin-sized to big enough for Wooyoung’s fist.

“Grandma, what happened?” Wooyoung asks. He knows some garments get damaged in the wash, but her sweater looks more like it’d been put through an industrial hole punch.

“Damn bugs. Must’ve been a wet spring, they’re everywhere this summer.”

“You think this was bugs?”

“Oh, I know it. Moths probably. Maybe silverfish. Wooyoungie, do you know where the mothballs are?”

“Mothballs? I don’t think so.”

“I should have a box in the linen closet by the kitchen. There’s some garment bags in the closet. Would you be a dear and hang my sweaters that look like this in one of those with a mothball.”

“Sure.”

“Be careful not to breathe in too much of the stuff.”

“Got it,” Wooyoung gives her a peck on the head before going inside for his mission. He didn’t think people still used mothballs. Are they even legal? They are for grandma, apparently.

He pads over to the linen closet, sliding the squeaky door open gingerly and scanning its contents. Among the quilts and pillowcases lies a shelf specifically for laundering doodads and whatnots. He rifles through the shelf’s contents - clothes pins, lint rollers, scrubbing brushes. The mothballs end up being at the very back, wedged into a corner with a few other dangerous chemicals - rat poison, ammonia. _Old Fashioned Mothballs_ the little blue box reads. Wooyoung eyes it dubiously for a few seconds, wondering if it’s possible for the things to expire. He figures he’ll know when he opens it, dismissing the possibility of danger altogether.

  
“This is gonna keep bugs out?” He murmurs with doubt. With how big the holes in her clothing is, he wonders if the perpetrator is even a moth or something more like a rat or a mouse. He’d never heard of rodents eating sweaters, but it’s not like he reads up on the stuff anyway. The instructions say to just toss the balls into the bag and hang the clothes. Easy enough. Worst case scenario it doesn’t work.

Woo steps into his grandmother’s room and lays out the garment bags on her bed. Stepping in immediately puts him on edge. He feels watched.

It’s been like this since childhood. Every time he stepped into grandmother’s, especially her bedroom, something beneath his skin squirmed in agonizing discomfort. He can’t shake the sensation of dozens of tiny, beady little eyes trained on him. Damn her penchant for collecting dolls. She doesn’t go for the plastic ones either, no. They’ve gotta be porcelain, finely formed and outfitted in dainty ruffles, and of course, they’re hand painted, each of them permanently fixed into a soulless expression of hollow happiness.

“Oh god, I hate this-” Wooyoung whispers to himself. The sound of a human voice assures him, even if it’s just his own. “I hate this, I hate this~” He singsongs as he hastily unfolds and unzips the garment bags. He steps over to the closet to grab her sweaters as requested, and suddenly, a thud sounds out through the thin doors. 

Wooyoung freezes.

His head immediately whips around searching the dolls as if their glassy gazes hold the answers to his question. What was that noise? They simply return his quiet inquiry with painted smiles, silent laughter pointed at him, unspoken mockery. He shudders.

  
Hand on the sliding door, he hears it again. It’s softer this time, but something reverberates from within. The impact from the sound manages to carry into the wall, door, and handle. Wooyoung feels the vibrations in his palm.

“Stupid,” He whispers to himself. He’s an adult now. He should know how creaky old houses can be, how the mind tag teams with anxiety to embellish on happenings of the real world and elicit fear. 

In a quick, jerky motion Wooyoung throws the door open.

“Aaaaaaaahhhhh!” Wooyoung squeals, jumping back, heart racing with anxiety, fear and surprise.

  
There’s something in there. No, not something. Someone. 

Sitting scrunched up in one corner of the closet is a guy. A long, lanky looking fellow with one of grandma’s sweaters between his lips. The stranger gives Wooyoung a wide-eyed look but, in spite of how very obviously strange the situation is, he continues chewing on the sweater. The strange man munches away, appearing almost affronted at the interruption.

“Wha- Who- Who the fuck are you?! Why are you- why are you here?!”

Woo rushes to find the nearest maybe-weapon he could find. He grabs a book off of his grandmother’s beside table and wields it menacingly.

“Why are you in my grandma’s house? Who are you? Why are you naked?!”

Finally, the odd pink-haired man parts his lips, letting the half-eaten sleeve drop from his mouth unceremoniously. He frowns, pouting.

“I’m hungry.”

“I’m calling the police,” Wooyoung lunges forward to smack the guy over the head with the book before grabbing his phone.

“Wait! Wait- Wait- Wait, please!” The man holds his hands up defensively to shield himself. “I can explain!” He bursts onto his feet, and Wooyoung feels faint. He’s so… Big. The breadth of his shoulders almost takes up half of the closet, and the top of his head grazes the ceiling. Wooyoung stumbles back and swallows nervously. He knows this is the part where he should run screaming, call the police, grab his grandma and go. But the utter shock of coming face to face with this stranger leaves him paralyzed. He can’t even wail like some forsaken scream queen in a shoddy horror film. He manages to sort of cover his eyes, thankfully, so he’s not treated to an overabundant feast of flesh - which he would be otherwise given that the man is stark naked.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” In spite of his size, the man cowers. “I- I didn’t know where else to go.” He ducks down and emerges from the closet. Wooyoung assesses the odd man’s face and figure. His skin is covered in bruises and scrapes which is immediately suspicious. Usually even beggars are clothed, and they’re seldom so handsome. Nor do people in that condition typically sport pink hair. The hair style is most peculiar, too, two tufts jutting out from the top almost like fluffy…

“A-Antannaes,” Woo inadvertently makes the utterance, eyes wide and dazed at the sight of what he can only describe as feathery antannae. 

“O-Oh,” The man gasps, and the things - his antannae - actually twitch.

The world spins, colors melding into a dizzying kaleidoscope circling Wooyoung’s vision. As dark edges seep into his outermost peripherals, his limbs jellify, transitioning into uselessness. His calves hit his grandmother’s bed, and the last thing he sees before succumbing to his lightheadedness is that odd man standing over him.

When he comes to, he expects to be peeling himself out of bed after having a strange dream. Woo’s body curls up atop the sheets, limbs tangling awkwardly. He winces and blinks the bleariness away. When he wipes a heavy hand across his eyes, the other is standing over him wearing nothing but an expression of curiosity.

“Ah-!” Wooyoung yelps, reaching for the heavy book he had before.

“Wait! Wait please, you shouldn’t move so suddenly,” The man says pleadingly.

“G-Get out of my grandma’s house! Why are you here?!”

“I- I have nowhere else to go,” The man’s plush lips tilt downward into a dismayed pout. He twiddles his fingers like a nervous child who knows they’d done something wrong.

“They- they have places for that. You can’t just break into someone’s house and- and eat their sweaters!”

“I’m sorry, I panicked. I- I saw you at the crash site and followed you here.”

“You- You followed me from- wait,” Wooyoung’s accusatory anger reaches a screeching halt. “Crash site?” The gears in his head churn as he processes the words. A knock of familiarity pangs in his chest, the strange sensation of remembrance resonating throughout his body. “Wait, do you mean-”

The pink-haired man nods, “Y-Yes. You were there!”

“Wait, you’re a… You are...”

That thing. The tall figure in the light-laced smog dwelling over him, eclipsing the smog. The breadth of his shoulders, the impossibly long legs - it matches the mirage he witnessed just days ago.

“Oh my god,” Wooyoung mutters numbly.

The pink-haired man’s face brightens upon being recognized, and he nods enthusiastically (his antannaes bob, too). Wooyoung’s body slumps back onto the bed, shock washing over him in waves.

“No. No it doesn’t make sense. No-” He shakes his head in disbelief. It doesn’t make sense. That doesn’t make sense. Crash site? No. Those things don’t happen. Not where he’s from. He hasn’t dared go back there, but if he did, he’s sure there would be nothing there. No crash. No crater. Because it’s just impossible, because nothing like that would happen in a million years - not in his grandma’s sleepy corner of the country and certainly not to him.

The stranger crouches down by the bed and reaches out. Wooyoung flinches, trembling when the other’s fingers graze his forehead. Suddenly, Woo’s head is flooded with flighty visions that simultaneously feel like an instant and an eternity. He sees the inside of a strange, high-tech aircraft, he hears loud beeping and feels the rumble, the breaching of the atmosphere, a lapis sky swathed in sunlight, then land rapidly approaching - too fast, too fast, too soon, rapidly losing altitude. He gasps, jolting just before the nose of the ship crashes through the tree canopy. The vision skips like a malfunctioning CD, and Wooyoung is surrounded by simmering, steamy smoke, and through it he sees one figure. Cast in smothering fog, a tiny silhouette emerges, the petite body paired with a small face. Wooyoung gasps as he looks upon his own face before the strangely small human figure dashes away in a feverish daze. Then, all comes to.

“What was that?!” Wooyoung croaks, wide-eyed.

“That’s what happened, don’t you see?”

Wooyoung doesn’t answer. He can’t answer. The shock is still dawning on him. He’s completely dumbfounded, everything he thought, everything he knew, utterly and completely challenged by what’s presented in front of him. He wants to question it, but part of him knows deep down he’s powerless to deny it. Part of him knows that what he saw, that visceral, strange experience, is, in fact, reality.

“And you came here?” Woo asks, significantly more calm and slightly defeated. “I- Where did you come from? The- the future-” It all sounds so ridiculous he cringes hearing himself talk. “Or-”

The stranger sits down in a cross-legged position at the bedside before asking: “May I explain?”

“Uh, sure, yeah. Why not?” Wooyoung has definitely resigned himself at this point.

The pink-haired man plays with his fingers, dark eyes fixed down as he tells his story.

“My name is… Well, I suppose… You could call me Mingi. I was sent on a mission to- to find asteroids composed of certain materials to aid my home planet. We are in need of certain materials to develop our infrastructure. Our atmosphere is dangerous, so we have to erect force fields in order to live safely. My mission was going smoothly, but then a gravitational anomaly pulled me into this solar system. My ship got compromised and, well… You can see the result of the rest,” He frowns.

“The ship is a complete wreck. No communications. Of course it can’t fly, either. I just-” He sniffles, clutching his knees. “You appeared to be the most intelligent creature in the wood, so I- I followed you and found shelter.” The stranger - Mingi, he said his name is Mingi - delivers the sad soliloquy with a quivering lip and wet eyes. “I’m sorry I invaded your home and ate your food!” He starts crying. “Please don’t have me executed! I am just as afraid as you are, human!” He breaks out into pitiful sobs.

“What?!” Wooyoung gasps. “Uh- Hey! Th-there,there. There, there,” Somehow, he ends up in the position of one comforting the poor creature. It sounds completely unbelievable. Asteroids? Far off planets with dangerous atmospheres? Gravitational anomalies? It all sounds like jargon pulled from a cheesy sci-fi movie. He entertains the idea that it very well could be, but then he remembers the dreamy images that swam through his head, the memories he experienced firsthand all from a single touch. 

  
Throwing out doubt, logic, reason, convention and all he knows, Wooyoung ventures the path less taken, one of faith laced with superstition, one of believing - perhaps even hoping for something more. More than the doldrums of another slow summer, more than stagnation, more than being all alone in the universe.

“Y-You really don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” Wooyoung asks with a frown. Mingi shakes his head. With a sigh, Wooyoung spills words that seal his fate. “Well, I guess you can stay around here if you want-”

“Really?! You mean that?” Mingi bursts up and grabs Wooyoung’s hands, gaze teary-eyed with gratefulness. 

“Uh, yeah,” Woo looks the other up and down, heat creeping up his neck. He mumbles, “We’re gonna have to get you some clothes.”


	3. Humans, Aliens and Assimilation

“Mingi, feel free to get seconds, there are plenty,” Wooyoung’s grandmother coos over the pink-haired one.

The alien beams, “Thank you, grandmother! I will keep that in mind.”

“Wooyoung, don’t forget to clean up when you’re done,” She speaks more sternly to her own grandson, an extension of her flesh and blood. “Oh- And we need eggs. Don’t forget! I’m going to take a nap.”

“Yes grandmother,” Wooyoung replies.

They both watch her waddle down the hallway before retreating into her room for her routine after-lunch nap. Wooyoung sighs, relieved when she’s finally gone. Shortly after discovering Mingi, Wooyoung introduced him to his grandmother as a friend. He told her that Mingi was staying in the area over summer, too, and asked if it was okay for him to be over. Always happy to have extra company - and extra help - the kind woman graciously welcomed him, quickly taking a shining to him. His quirks are easy enough to cover up, at least. Wooyoung has already spun a few stories. He spent a lot of time overseas growing up. One of his parents is foreign. That sort of thing. It gets him the much sought after hum and an accepting nod - most importantly she does not question it further.

Life with Mingi is, so far, a process. Every day and every moment is a learning experience. First was the issue of appearance. Unsurprisingly, Wooyoung’s clothes barely fit the alien man-creature. It’s not like he stocked his suitcases with an extravagant amount of clothes, and the few stores he does keep left over in his summer closet are all for years past.

Mingi actually threw a fit when outfitted, pouting and huffing, limbs flailing as he moans about “How could a human possibly function in confinement like this!”. His antannae were another jarring issue, but one that got easily resolved. 

Wooyoung even asked, “If you’re from far, far away how come you look so human?”

“Oh, this? This isn’t my genuine form. My body shifts to best adapt to the environment, though. That’s why you can understand me!” His antannae twitched. When Woo told him that the antannae would have to go, he seemed so mopey, so sad to shed the one distinguishing trait separating him from humanity, but it was necessary. The fluffy, feathered things stoked Wooyoung’s curiosity. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s been thinking about it constantly, wondering and imagining what type of “true form” could accompany the things. He ponders the possibilities - he could be unsightly or unfathomable, horrible, disgusting, cute, small, big - it could be so many things.

While Mingi’s gotten the human appearance down, that’s about all he’s accomplished. Wooyoung gives him credit, he nails looking human. But… The behavior has a ways to go. It’s not easy being human, especially since he has to start from scratch, so he’s been fairly lenient in his opinion.

“These stick-y things are so… Confounding,” Mingi says, awkwardly winding his fingers around a single chopstick.

Wooyoung sighs, picking up the other one and correcting the alien’s hands for the twentieth time, “I told you, you need both of them, and don’t you dare stab the food.”

“This seems like a terribly inefficient way to ingest sustenance.” He fumbles again, dropping a chopstick onto the plate he’d hardly touched. “Can’t I just get at one sweater-”

“No!” Wooyoung bops the alien lightly on the head.

“But the fiber-”

“You can get fiber from eating normal things. You said your human body can eat all the human stuff. You’ll mess it up if you eat sweaters.”

Mingi frowns, jabbing the meat on his plate with a chopstick sadly. Wooyoung groans but relents, allowing the alien to eat as he pleases in grandmother’s absence. The human sighs, resting his chin on a hand and tapping his foot. He lazily watches the alien lift a chunk of rice, only for it to roll off of his wobbly chopsticks and bounce off of the table. The pink-haired creature tilts his head and pouts, eyes staring down dejectedly at the linty lump of starch. 

He sighs before trying to change the subject, “What’s this about eggs, by the way?”

“Huh? Oh- We need to go to the store and pick up eggs.”

“Store- oh, like a supplier!”

“Um. Yes. A supplier, I guess. A supplier of goods. And stuff,” Wooyoung tries. He’s spent the past few days giving the other half-hearted explanations for everything. Some stuff clicks in an instant while he takes way longer to comprehend other things. Overall he’s a fast learner. The alien harbors a starry-eyed, childlike fascination for life on Earth and, while he loathes to admit it, Wooyoung kind of adores it. It’s undeniably endearing, the way the other looks at his dull summer home with the fresh gaze of an eager newcomer. How every object, thing, critter, tv show, piece of literature - they all become objects of fascination, things so utterly common evolve into more, a bountiful wealth of curiosity.

Mingi blinks confusedly, “You procure eggs at such places? But what if they hatch?!”

Wooyoung snorts, “Mingi, they’re not those kinds of eggs.”

“What?”

“Mingi, they’re- they’re not like fertilized or anything. They’re for eating.”

The alien nods. Then gasps. Then he nods again as if understanding after a crisis that lasted no longer than a moment. It’s in that very moment that it occurs to Wooyoung: he needs to go to the store. He has to physically leave the house and make the two block walk to the store (and back, of course). That means one of two things. Mingi has to come with, or Mingi has to be left alone in the house. There’s the possibility Mingi would take some time to look at his wreckage (the only thing he leaves the house - well, Wooyoung’s bubble - for).

Wooyoung’s eyes widen at the mere prospect of Mingi in the house alone. The alien could burn the house down. There’s a chance he’ll stick by the shockingly yet undisturbed crater if asked, but Wooyoung doesn’t love his chances. The other is drawn to humans, like a moth to a flame, and if Woo’s not paying enough attention, the alien has a tendency to slowly drift toward his grandmother.

Mingi’s voice pulls Woo out of his thinking, and he sounds worried, “You… Eat your unfertilized young?”

If Wooyoung had anything to choke on at that moment, he’d probably be going blue. His eyes widen with shock at the implication of some pseudo cannibalistic race. It’s like something out of an awful sci-fi B movie, which is ironic considering  _ he  _ exists. Woo glances out the window out at the street, contemplating the best move. With a resigned sigh, he gets up, chair sliding noisily on the worn wooden floor.

“You… Wanna see what an earth ‘supplier’ looks like?” Woo asks hesitantly, half hoping the other rebuts the invitation with talk about ship repairs.

Alas, Jung Wooyoung - for all that he is - is not lucky. At least, not this summer, it seems. Mingi’s face brightens into a massive, beaming smile, and he nods, the air about him carrying an aura of combined enthusiasm and wonder. Human sustenance all but forgotten, Mingi bursts out of his chair, sending the poor old thing crashing onto the floor.

“Do you think they’ll have things I could use for my ship?”

“Uh-” Wooyoung ponders the many wares of the archaic fixture down the street known as “the general store”. If a convenience store and a hardware store had a baby, the general store would be their spawn. There may very well be something of help to Mingi, but Wooyoung doubts whatever crusty cables or old tools they have in stock would do much to mend an alien spaceship. Not that he knows.

“Why don’t we find out?” Wooyoung posits in an optimistic way. Mingi nods emphatically, following Woo to the door like a puppy about to go for a walk. (In a way, he kind of is.) “Ah- Wait-” Woo fusses, glancing down at Mingi’s bare feet. As is, the alien is barely decent. None of Wooyoung’s clothes fit the hulking, statuesque “human” very well. He can’t go around barefoot, though. The town is sleepy and rural, but they’re certainly not that rural.

“Put these on,” The human instructs, finding the biggest pair of slide sandals he can by the door. He’s pretty sure they belong to one of his uncles for when they’re taking care of grandmother. The pair of slides are for home use, but surely he won’t mind or notice. It takes Mingi a few tries before he finally manages to get both feet inside their respective slide. “Did you- Do you not wear shoes… Where you are from?”

Mingi contemplates the question for a second before shaking his head, “We adorn our bodies with a few things for cosmetic purposes - to denote status and such - but nothing is worn out of necessity. Lest we venture outside the force fields, of course.”

“Oh.” The mental image of a city of naked people traumatizes Wooyoung, just a little, but he tries not to let it bother him. He definitely tries not to remember what Mingi looked like when they met, standing tall and stark naked, eating a sweater. Such sweet memories of just days ago, how far away they feel.

“Well, just follow me, and, um, let me do the talking if anyone wants anything, okay?” Mingi nods in agreement, a happy little smile on his face.

Wooyoung wonders what went into his physical “human” form. Did he choose this appearance himself? Did he steal it? Was it assigned to him? 

  
All of the questions bubble up to the surface of Wooyoung’s mind, but he doesn’t bother asking. For some reason, he can’t bear to know. He’s aware that’s counterintuitive given his general desire to break the status quo, to chase that something interesting, that adventure. But, with every little thing he knows about Mingi, it’s as if the worn velvet curtain on stage is pulled back more and more to reveal the set’s guts. It breaks the magic, a little bit. It breaks his mind. To sit there and think and imagine and try to comprehend what Mingi tells him about realities far, far beyond his own world. And what if one day he spills something that shatters his happy illusion of a benign alien presence forever? What if he reveals something that Wooyoung doesn’t like? 

No, Wooyoung thinks he’d much rather know as little as possible, just write the many facets and complexities of the other’s existence off as something supernatural rather than scientific.

When the two pass the threshold from house to outdoors, it’s like walking through a wall of heat. The sun beams down almost cruelly on the earth below, casting the surface in blinding light and searing heat. Humidity doesn’t help, either, and the two of them are just steps outside the door by the time Wooyoung starts to feel sweat drip down his nape.

Unsurprisingly, the street is empty save for a few birds and bugs. Sunlight and hot air distort the image of the road beyond, making it appear like a twirly mirage. Mingi appears completely unphased, happily following at Wooyoung’s heels as they make the trek two blocks east. It’s one Woo has done many times before and will probably do many times again. Though he can definitely say he’s never done it in the company of an alien. 

Mingi’s mantra could be “what’s that?” because he asks about everything. Woo ends up passing the time by rambling about telephone poles, sidewalks, fences, lawns, sunflowers. Things he’d passed by time and time again transcend profanity in the alien’s eyes. Wooyoung wishes he could share the enthusiasm. He can’t, though, and once they reach the store - the sweet solace of air conditioning wafting over them - he stresses about making sure the other doesn’t touch anything.

Mingi walks the aisles, eyes scanning restlessly in hopes of something he could use. Wooyoung has to backtrack and fetch the spacey alien a few times because of it. They pick up some “unfertilized young”, and Wooyoung helps himself to another few odds and ends. 

The cashier does a double-take when they arrive at the checkout. She greets Wooyoung warmly, rattling off fond memories of when he was “this high” (illustrated with a gesture) and he asked for lollies at the cash wrap. As a kid, Wooyoung would’ve never noticed the way her eyes dart between the two, ideas so very visibly bubbling up in her head. 

She doesn’t say anything about it, though.

Whatever thoughts she has about Wooyoung’s strange new friend stay in her head, locked tight behind her tightly shut lips. Surely they’ll find their way out next time she’s in attendance of her book club or knitting circle - but Wooyoung is glad not to hear them. Wearing a pink shirt is considered a political statement in the rural reaches of the countryside, who knows what impression pink hair will make on the locals.

Her eyes follow the pair as they exit. Wooyoung can feel them along with the discernment brewing in her head. She can think whatever she wants. The lady’s got no idea Mingi is an alien, and he counts that as a win. Hopefully, things stay that way. The most pressing thing that the little town ever worries about is the weather.


	4. Humans, Aliens and Beauty

Wooyoung sighs, sprawled out on the worn wood of his grandmother’s floor. It’s almost time for him to move again - his body temperature has officially warmed the floor around him to the point that it’s lost its comforting coolness. Woo can feel sweat pool uncomfortably beneath him, and he makes a mental note to wipe it up. Gross.

The only thing louder than the perpetual drone of the cicadas is that of the television the next room over. Woo can just barely see the thing through his peripheral. Grandmother snores, sound asleep, head lolled back as commercials echo loudly through the small house. Mingi joined her earlier - sat in a cross legged position and drank up every rambling bit of conversation Woo’s grandma had to give. Even though the elderly woman is sound asleep, the alien remains in his perch, gaze fixed on the old CRT television.

It’s been a couple of weeks now, and the two have fallen into a sort of rhythm. Mingi is a constant presence. He’s usually sipping tea with Wooyoung’s grandmother before the human’s out of his pajamas. He remains by their side throughout the day, and, while irked at first, Woo quickly adjusted to an amicable familiarity. Then, when Wooyoung can barely keep his eyes open - or after his third time dozing off during some movie - Mingi sees him to bed before disappearing into the darkness. His first couple of nights, the alien tried to sleep in the closet. Wooyoung dismayingly offered the otherworldly thing his bed, but Mingi wasn’t keen on taking it. Instead, he asked to borrow some sheets (or, in his words, “soft, fibrous things”) and made what Woo could only describe as a blanket fort of sorts. The alien takes shelter in his thrown together nest and wraps himself in a blanket cocoon. He never sleeps long, though. Wooyoung occasionally stirs at night. He’ll wake up to use the restroom or get a glass of water and the rumpled pile of blankets is left vacant.

He doesn’t know where Mingi goes, and he’s not sure he wants to.

“Mingi,” Wooyoung whines from his spot on the floor. “Mingi.” He tries again, whining. He’s bored, and for all his quirks, the alien certainly is entertaining.

Except, for once, the alien doesn’t stir. He remains absolutely transfixed by the fuzzy images flashing across the television. Feeling defeated and too impatient to wait for the other, Woo hoists himself up and plods over to the other.

“Mingi,” Wooyoung says again, poking the alien’s head.

Mingi jumps, startled, and out of nowhere his feathery antanneas jump out. They stand straight up, fluffy and frazzled. The human finds himself temporarily transfixed. They just look so damn fuzzy, he thinks: what do they feel like? The temptation to run his fingers through them rushes through him, makes his fingertips tingle and his mind run rampant with curiosity. 

“Wh-What is it?” The alien asks after calming down a smidge.

“Huh-? O-Oh, I just-” Woo plops down next to him. “I was bored. Wanna do something?”

“Like what?”

Wooyoung shrugs, “I dunno. Walk around. Ride a bike.”

  
“What’s a ‘bike’?”

“Uh- You can take the pegs.”

“Pegs?” Mingi tilts his head and purses his lips. 

“Nevermind. I dunno we could… We could at least watch some Youtube or something. There’s no commercials- or, well, they’re shorter.”

“You...Tube… Ah- Yes, the realtime archival video library! That one was interesting!”

“Yeah it’ll be better than… This,” Woo gestures to the TV.

Mingi’s attention gets swayed by the flashing RGB lights yet again, and he spaces out, staring as an advert plays for some hair dye. After an excruciatingly long minute of watching some model swish her glistening hair around, the alien responds - not with a statement, but a question.

“What is that?” Mingi asks, pointing at the TV.

“Huh? What’s what?”

“That. On the screen?”

“Uh, the commercial? It’s a sponsored clip played to, um, promote a product or something.”

“I understand that, you explained advertisements to me. But, what are they selling. Flowers? Hair?”

Wooyoung snorts at that, “Hair dye, actually.”

“Hair- hair what?”

“Hair dye. You know, dyes, um, change the color of- of fibers. And human hair is made of fiber, so yeah. People buy dye to change the color of their hair.”

“To change the color of… The fibers on their head,” Mingi contemplates the concept of hair dye for a minute before continuing. “Why would one change the color of their head fibers? Is there some tactical advantage to doing so? Does it prevent humans from being spotted by predators? I thought you were the apex predators of this planet, though...”

“No, no it’s not about that, dummy!” Wooyoung laughs. “People do it to look nice.”

“Look nice?”

“Yeah. Nice. You know. Pretty. Beautiful. Kinda helps people feel better about themselves. Lets them express themselves. Or cover up gray hair.”

“Beauty…” Mingi’s eyes flash to the screen again, brain no doubt reeling with theories and curiosities. “What is not beautiful about a human’s hair fibers in their natural state?”

“Uh- Trust me, a lot can be messed up with hair,” Wooyoung chuckles, recounting a few at-home bleach disasters he and his friends have had at home. A little pang of wistfulness hits his heart. He misses them - San and Yeosang - his best friends back at university. Even though they usually spend half their summers in their group chat, ever since meeting Mingi, Wooyoung’s been so preoccupied. He makes a mental note to send them a message and see how they’re doing.

“Is it detrimental to have ‘messed up hair’?”

“Yes. Well, not exactly. I dunno. It can be? I- Don’t you- where you’re from aren’t there… Things that are considered beautiful and things that are not? I mean, you- you mentioned something about wearing clothes and how it was only done for cosmetics. For lots of humans that’s what hair is to us. It’s cosmetic.”

“I see,” Mingi nods receptively. “So, the advertisement, would you consider that a beauty standard of your kind then? Long, dark hair. Such shiny fibers, too. Lustrous.”

“You make it sound so weird,” Woo laughs. “But it’s more complicated than that. Beauty standards change based on a lot of stuff. Who you’re with, where you are… I mean, like this-” He twirls a lock of Mingi’s pink hair around his finger, “-is considered to be quite the statement around here. But! Back at my university, I bet a lot of people would really admire it.”

“Oh. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you consider beautiful, Wooyoung?”

For some reason, that question lights a fire in Wooyoung’s head, the flame swallowing his cheeks and licking the tips of his ears until they’re all a matching shade of pink. It’s such a blunt thing to be asked, and in different circumstances it’d be downright brazen. But not in this case, not in the one where the alien from galaxies away is asking about a foreign planet’s customs. 

“Wh-What do you consider beautiful?” He turns it back around.

Mingi laughs and actually indulges the human. He gazes off as he formulates the answer, gaze glossing over with a sort of faraway, starry-eyed look. Sometimes Wooyoung forgets that Mingi isn’t just some goofy exchange student - that he’s a living being of some sort who’s found himself far, far away from home with no way back. But occasionally, he gets that look in his eye - that faraway one - and Wooyoung knows he’s thinking about that place. He must miss it.

“I suppose it does very depending on which dome you’re in. You can consider domes our, um, countries. Each one has a fairly unique culture. Mine, we- I suppose most of us, really- we like… Color.”

“Color?”

“Yes. Color. Many of us are naturally gifted. I, myself- well, I don’t mean to brag. I don’t boast all of the features of our ideal, but I- I’m colorful. Not all are so fortunate, though. Why- The more plain ones will pollen themselves or roll around in dews to take on color, but it’s very temporary. It’ll wash out after a cycle of precipitation. Sometimes they’re downright splotchy in application.”

“Hey! See! That’s just like hair dye!” Wooyoung beams. “People do it to fit, like, their ideal. But it totally fades, and it can be a total mess.”

“To think, even galaxies away, we can find similarities.”

“So, then, I- I know we’re different, but humans… I- Do we look, like, super ugly to you?”

“What would you do if I said yes.”

“Uh-” Woo didn’t think about that. Does that mean Mingi thinks he’s ugly? Has Mingi been holding in his true opinion this entire time? Does being surrounded by the fleshy creatures disgust him?! For some reason, the thought of that makes Wooyoung more upset than it really ought to.

“I-I’m kidding, don’t stress. At first, the sight of humans was quite a shock, but there are some similarities. Sort of.”

“So we’re… Not ugly?”

“No, not at all. Perhaps you wouldn’t be the most suitable mate with your lack of sensors and tiny, fleshy body. Many of you lack color as well… But your features are- well, it doesn’t matter.”

“O-Okay,” Wooyoung’s face flushes even more deeply. He adds that to his running list of self-imposed anxieties and insecurities. “Yeah. How about that? Guess people are image-conscious everywhere. Wait- You said you’re, like, colorful. What kind of colors? Wait, that’s stupid, I probably wouldn’t even be able to, like, physically see your real colors right?”

“Um, I believe some could fall under your spectrum of light. Yes, you could probably see at least the most prevalent ones.”

“Wait, oh my god!” Wooyoung jumps onto his feet and claps excitedly, “Can you show me, like, your true form?”

“What?”

“Like, your real body. Can you show me?”

“My- My real body?”

“Can you? Can you please? Please? Please? Oh my god that’d be so cool- what if we took a selfie?!”

Mingi shakes his head adamantly, “No!”

“Would you show up on cam- Wait, no?” Woo pouts. “Why not?”

“No. I- I can’t.”

“Aw, come on. I won’t post it on social media or anything.”

“I don’t want to.”

“But… But why not? It must be exhausting keeping that form on all the time… Is it?”

“It isn’t. Though I admit I do feel limited by the physical features of the human body-”

“See!”

“That does not mean I’m going to show you my- my other body. The one I was born in, it’s… It does not fit the Earth beauty standard. A far cry from it, from what I can tell.”

“Aw, Mingi. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“You say that, but I know that you will never look at me the same if you see the way I truly look.”

“Your looks don’t determine who you are inside.”

“I said no,” The alien says firmly, lips fixed into a frown.

Wooyoung presses his lips together and nods in acceptance. He drops the topic, quickly moving onto explaining the variety show to Mingi.

Later that day, he shows Mingi what riding pegs on a bike really means. They return to a hot meal and an interrogation as to why they’re both wearing dozens of scrapes and bruises. Mingi’s chopstick skills have improved, and he manages to slurp down his noodles with little incident - something that earns him grandmother’s glowing praise. A pleasant day turns over to a pleasant night, filled with Wooyoung explaining the concept of memes and showing Mingi videos.

All the while, Wooyoung can’t stop trying to imagine what Mingi looks like. The real Mingi.


	5. Humans, Aliens and Relationships

The little black car icon slides across Wooyoung’s screen at a slow crawl. The beacon above it touts “2 minutes until arrival”. Mingi rocks back and forth on his heels, eyes searching and eager to board this new, advanced Earth transportation known as “cars”. Woo’s uncle is over which gives him the day off, so Wooyoung decided to use some of his allowance to take Mingi out to the nearest bastion of quintessential human civilization: the mall. Of course, “nearest” is all relative, and in a place where distance is measured in time, “nearest” means approximately twenty minutes by car.

Even by the road the cicadas’ loud shrill smothers out almost every other sound, and the stifling heat has Wooyoung praying for the arrival of their sacred chariot. He damn near jumps headfirst into the unremarkable sudan when it arrives. Luckily for his dignity, the alien’s presence motivates him to exercise restraint.

The ride to is unremarkable, their driver turning out to be of the blissfully silent variety. Wooyoung detests nothing more than random cabbies trying to spark conversation, and the stress of it doubled with Mingi added to the equation. The alien - who had been asked prior not to address the driver - asks Wooyoung dozens of questions, whispers tickling the human’s ears. Woo answered them with quiet haste for the duration of the ride.

He thanks the driver as they step out of the vehicle, sun eclipsed by the shadow of the gargantuan shrine to retail. Mingi’s jaw drops with wonder, and he stands statue still, marvelling at the structure for a long period of time before Wooyoung can finally get him to move. 

“So this is the market? It’s much bigger than the other one,” Mingi says, eyes going every which way.

“It’s, like, a collection of unique shops. A mall just houses the individual retailers.”

“I see.” His tone implies that he doesn’t actually see, but Woo opts not to press it. The outdated meccas of retail tend to lend themselves to experience moreso than explanation, anyway.

Mingi gasps, and a pleased smile spreads across his lips when the automatic doors part for them without prompting. The blissful draft of air conditioning gives Woo some much needed relief from the muggy sauna that is the outdoors. It’s been about a year since Woo last stepped into the place. It’s not close to grandma, but - much like now - he usually found himself at the mall sooner or later if only to quell his boredom or blow his allowance. The beauty of chain retailers is that  _ they  _ at least change. Unlike the general store down the road where he’s pretty sure he’s watched the tin of tuna collect dust for three years, mall stores are obligated to swap out their windows and offerings with the seasons.

They walk through the entryway lined with a few smaller, local businesses out onto the main thoroughfare. There are fountains and seating areas down below, along with all matter of fake-looking plants meant to liven the place up a bit. Mingi runs right up to the railing that looks onto the bottom floor and gawks. It’s not particularly busy given the day and hour, but a few people mill about. The alien stares at the shop structures, uniform yet distinct, gaze slow and raking over each one.

“How interesting,” He mutters.

“Yeah. It’s a change of pace from grandma’s, at least.”

“So- Where do we start?”

Shops have come and gone; much like the circle of life, the circle of retail is brutal and inevitable, and with waning interests and dwindling profits, a lot of things have left. Some, however, stubbornly remain in their corners in spite of how deserted they always seem. There’s all sorts of stuff: specialty chocolatiers, all manner of clothing retailers, home goods, games. Where should they start?

“Wherever you want,” Wooyoung smiles at him. He’s been here plenty of times. Mingi hasn’t. He wonders what’ll draw the alien’s interest the most.

Beaming, the pink-haired alien skips off without warning. Woo scrambles to catch up to the other. He’s not going fast, but those long legs make for a large stride. (It crosses the human’s mind that maybe he ought to buy the other at least one pair of pants that don’t ride up so high on the ankle.) “Mingi wait!” The human exclaims, trotting after the other, “Wait!”

He chases the other to the nearest store - the chocolatier - and has to bat his hands away from the display pieces. When the other informs him he doesn’t know what chocolate is, Wooyoung has to buy him a piece, and their trip around the mall goes very much like that. 

Mingi buzzes around like a busy bee, in one store and out the other, touching everything, smelling,  _ licking  _ (thankfully not getting caught). Wooyoung has to yank him away from some sheer drapes at one of the house decor stores, and he actually loses him in one of the clothing stores. “Why do they make these places so damn dark…” He mutters to himself annoyedly, squinting to find the pink-headed alien above the racks and tables.

“Okay, that’s it!” Wooyoung says semi-sternly after losing him for the fourth time. He determinedly grabs the other’s hand and interlaces their fingers. A shock of nervousness spikes up from his tummy to his chest, but he tries to keep it down. Sure, they’re far from the city, but people won’t be rude to them just because they’re two guys holding hands - right? Not that they’re a couple - they’re not one - but they certainly could  _ look  _ like one, and Woo doesn’t want the confusion to make them targets for harassment. Not that he’s ashamed of himself or anything. It’s just that, the thought of anyone having their eyes on Mingi for too long still fills him with anxiety. Nobody’s said anything yet, but who knows? What if someone notices something off? What if he’s being watched by the government?

Mingi halts in front of a clothing store. He stops so quickly Woo actually bumps into him and squawks out of surprise. The alien tilts his head, observing the large banner in the window.

“See something you like?” The human asks. It’s one of the trendier stores in the place - probably the one Wooyoung hates the least. The clothes are definitely his style, but the company’s so morally corrupt, he refuses to admit that he likes them. But if Mingi wants to go in there, it’s only courteous to accompany him.

Mingi glances down at his own body and purses his lips, “Observing your beauty standards more. My adornments seem… Inadequate.”

“I-Inadequate?!” Woo gets a jolt of guilt and just a tiny bit of offense at the dig on his style. “I mean- Well- I guess I can’t say you’re wrong. They’re, um, they don’t really fit.”

“N-Not that I don’t appreciate your hospitality! I’m sorry!” The alien squeezes the human’s hand. “I didn’t mean to offend you-”

“It’s fine. Here, let’s go in,” Wooyoung guides him in. A worker greets them as they pass the threshold into the space. Raw wood and industrial displays boast a variety of clothing laid out for the summer. There are shorts, overalls, button-downs, t-shirts, jeans, sweats, plus all the shoes at the back. Throwback hip-hop plays over the speakers as they browse.

“This is like something you’d wear, right?” Mingi asks, curiously.

Woo blinks confusedly, wondering why he’d ask. He nods - the color blocked shirt is pretty inoffensive, a bit loud, but definitely wearable. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m just thinking, I…” He frowns and lowers his voice, “If I’m going to be here for a long time, maybe I ought to think about how I present myself.” Though he so very clearly tries not to, he sounds so crestfallen. Wooyoung squeezes the alien’s hand more tightly, finding his downcast gaze.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. You’ll find a way to repair your ship soon,” He whispers. Mingi nods even though he’s not sold on the idea. “But… But until then, I don’t see why we can’t at least get you a pair of pants and maybe shoes that fit.”

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m already such an imposition-”

“Mingi, I insist.”

“But-”

“It’s no big deal. If I didn’t use it on you, I’d probably get something really stupid.” 

“But- But I-”

“Hush and take the damn shirt,” Woo disentangles their fingers so he can find one in the right size.

“O...Okay,” Mingi nods, face flushing a cute pink that matches his hair.

If the whole returning to his home planet thing doesn’t work, Mingi could definitely make it as a model. He gets good practice as the two end up going a bit overboard in the store pulling piece after piece. The helpful associates deliver them over top of the door while Wooyoung scurries around to get the right size.

It seems like Mingi prefers looser clothes - this Wooyoung figures out pretty quickly. The second time he walks out, content smile on his face, in a shirt that’s clearly two sizes too big, insisting it’s “really quite nice”. After insisting, Wooyoung got him into a pair of jeans that fit and a sweater that was on the clearance rack. Mingi kept saying “I’m not sure about this”, and when he’s bullied out of the dressing room, Woo’s not sure he’s looking at the same alien. He’s so… Statuesque. And a proper pair of pants accentuates all of the unfairly long, lithe, muscular curves up and down his legs far too well. Wooyoung tries not to get too acquainted with the vision as he rushes the other back in - they’ve got lots of outfits to get through, of course!

Mingi loves loose things, but aside from that, he’s fairly open. As he tries more on, a sense of style sort of starts to take shape, which Woo finds cute. For someone who talked about unnecessary adornments being rare for his kind, he takes to the idea of clothing quickly. His favorite pieces are big t-shirts and bigger cardigans. Wooyoung wonders if it’s okay with him to walk around in a sweater with no shirt under it, but he doesn’t dare say a thing. Mingi glows with happiness, taking more and more to his human form.

They end up leaving with two pairs of pants, two shirts, a pair of shoes and a sweater. Wooyoung winces as he hands his card over to the cashier, but seeing Mingi bouncing happily, smiling from ear to ear, makes it all worth it. The alien’s stomach growls loudly, indicating that it’s time for “sustenance” as he so likes to call it.

Wooyoung happily digs into his slice of pizza while Mingi works on his vanilla ice cream cone. Woo regrets not getting him a cup. The task of licking a cone clean is more taxing than he thought. He keeps narrowing his eyes at it as if analyzing the structure of the swirly soft serve to discern his best approach.

“Do you want me to get you a spoon?” The human finally asks after watching Mingi lean in for the third time.

“N-No. No, I just- So, I lick it?”

“Yes. I- Do you understand what lick means? It’s like when you use your tongue.”

“Right. Yes. Yeah I know I Just- Does the tongue absorb the ice cream?”

Woo snorts, “Wh- No. You swallow it.”

“Oh… Then what is the point?”

“Wha- It’s- It’s a delivery system,” The human laughs. “I dunno. It’s just easier.”

Mingi purses his lips, “You know, on my home planet we have organs in our mouth to imbibe such things.”

“I-Imbibe?!” Having even a tiny piece of the Mingi puzzle revealed gives Wooyoung a thrill. The jolt of fascination strikes him like static electricity. “What… Kind of organ?” He leans in, trying to peer into the other’s mouth.

“Hm. I suppose you could describe it like…” He sticks his tongue out briefly, “Like my tongue is a, um, a straw?”

Wooyoung gasps, and his imagination goes wild trying to imagine what kind of an alien could be attached to a straw-tongue. It begs the question - why would Mingi need to make use of such an organ? How did he make use of such a thing? Did he use it just for liquids? Was his diet entirely liquid? It would explain the tiny waist. What if he used it on living creatures though? Could he literally suck someone dry?! While Wooyoung has an internal meltdown, Mingi gets the hang of licking his ice cream. He contently laps at the melting cone while Wooyoung watches, trying to connect the barely-existent dots. 

“W-Wooyoung!” Mingi gasps, pulling the other out of his stupor.

“Hm?”

“Th-There! Over there!” The alien points, jaw dropped with shock. “What is that- that person doing?!”

Wooyoung, prompted by the urgency, turns around to see what Mingi’s raising such a fuss about. Judging by the alien’s tone, one would think a crime was being committed. Wooyoung does consider what he’s witnessing a crime - but not an illegal one. Just a social one. The human groans and rolls his eyes.

“Oh god- aren’t they young to be making out?”

“Making out? That sounds dangerous! What does that mean!?” Mingi asks, lip quivering and eyes wide with worry.

“I- Uh- It’s not bad-”

“But- but the tall human is eating the short human’s face!”

  
“No! No- no, no- oh my gosh- lower your voice!” Wooyoung laughs stressedly. Thankfully, the disgustingly affectionate couple appear completely unphased, entirely absorbed in their inappropriate public display.

“But- But-”

“No, it’s fine, Mingi. They’re just kissing! Well, it’s not fine, it’s gross, but-”

“But what? Does that- do you mean to say they are not in danger?”

“No, Mingi, nobody is in danger,” Woo sighs. “They’re kissing.”

“What does that mean? What is a kiss?” Mingi asks, completely serious.

Heat rushes to Wooyoung’s face and makes his cheeks blaze. If someone had told him that he’d spend his summer explaining human life to an alien, he’d have told them to address their drug problem. Yet, there he sits, in a very large public place, sitting across from an alien who crash landed in his grandmother’s back woods. How funny life can be.

“It’s- a- um- well, it’s a gesture of affection.”

“Affection…?”

“Yeah, you know. Affection. I mean- You know all kinds of words. You know what that one means. Right?”

Mingi just shakes his head, expression of worry melting away into pure curiosity. He watches Wooyoung ardently in wait of enlightenment.

“O-Oh. Well. Affection is… It means, like, loving- er- or- or liking someone and showing it. Like, um, fondness or care.”

“Ah, I see. So, I feel affectionate to you?” Mingi posits with a small smile.

Wooyoung, who thought he was hot and uncomfortable before, feels the heat inside his body turn up another ten degrees. He supposes that the statement is far from false. They certainly are affectionate, in a way. Mingi is considerate and attentive, always trying to learn about human culture and trying not to be a burden. Then there’s Wooyoung who just bought the alien a ton of clothes on top of being his human liaison. Sure, Wooyoung felt a little obligated at first, but he’s come to like the alien - quirks, questions and all.

“I-I mean, yeah. You could say that.”

“Wait, then that means- Wooyoung, I’m sorry!” The alien apologizes all of a sudden.

“Huh?!”

“You and I share affection, but I haven’t engaged in the proper expression of it! Wait- let me eat your-”

“Gonna stop you right there!” Wooyoung holds out a hand before the other can try anything. “We may have affection, but it’s not like that.”

“Like how?”

“Like that. You know. How, um those two were- are. Still are. Yikes.”

“What do you mean?”

“W-Well, affection isn’t solely romantic.”

“Ro...Mantic?”

Wooyoung wishes he could jump into one of the mall’s fountains or something to escape the embarrassment of explaining. He isn’t positive he can aptly explain something so integral to the human experience. Though he theorizes Mingi feels emotions at least similarly to him, he has no way to know if that’s true. Would Mingi understand concepts like romance or affection or desire? Just thinking about trying to talk to the other about it makes Woo’s nerves skyrocket. As much as he’d like to dismiss the subject, he knows that he’s Mingi’s only genuine ally on Earth. Nobody else knows who he really is. He can’t go to anyone else with these questions, and if he can’t learn from Wooyoung, he never will. 

“Um, yeah. Romance is- well, it’s a lot of things. It’s one word that holds a lot of meanings. But in the context of human relationships it’s thought of as sort of a feeling of… Excitement and allure relating to love.”

“Oh- I’ve heard love. You told me that one!”

“Right, yeah! Well, when I tell my grandma I love her, it’s different.”

“Love is a deep feeling of tenderness and devotion for a person, correct?”

“Yes. And affection, too.”

“Right. Yes, that makes sense.”

“But, um, there are types of love, you could say.”

“Oh?”

“Love for something is, like, a passion. Like how I have a passion for dance. Familial love is, like, love for your family. Then there’s love you have for your friends. Romantic love- that’s different.”

“It- it is?” He can tell Mingi is slipping a bit, struggling to keep up, but he tries his best to elaborate anyway.

“Yeah. Um. Romantic love is super different. It’s, like- I mean- I don’t think I’ve ever felt it, but, like, it’s just super intense! Beyond intense! So intense that it makes people want to spend the rest of their lives with the other person. Lots of people get married and have kids after that.”

“Have kids? Oh- offspring! So romantic love relates to mating!” Mingi’s eyes twinkle as if he’d just reached some epic scientific breakthrough.

“Yes! Yeah! Wait- I mean- Not always- But, um, yes?”

“It doesn’t?”

Wooyoung no longer can determine who’s more confused between them. He wishes he could explain romantic love without contradicting himself twenty times, but it’s impossible. Romance itself is filled with contradictions and compromises - and things like “mating” aren’t always done in tandem with romance. He wonders if he’s overthinking it and considers making it simply.

“Okay, let me- let me start from the beginning.”

“Mhm.”

“So- So, yes, those two are exhibiting an- an affectionate gesture associated with romantic love. Two humans, um, touch lips and share each other’s, I dunno, feelings that way.”

“They share… So… It’s like, when two humans kiss-” He touches the index and thumb of his free hand together illustratively, “-they are filling the other with their love.”

The human almost flies out of his seat, reeling from the sheer cuteness of the alien’s observation.

“Yeah, that’s a good way to put it.”

“Kiss me, Wooyoung!”

“M-Mingi, it’s not- wait- it’s not something everyone does, though!”

“But I love you,” Mingi pouts.

“Aa-ah-” It takes the human and embarrassingly long time to recover from the blunt force of the words. “Wait, hold on a minute, kissing is sort of a special gesture. It’s reserved for very, um, intimate connections.”

“Oh. Right. The offspring…”

“Yeah. The, um, offspring. I guess, on a basic level, the idea is that humans court one another this way - with intimacy and gestures - then, if the humans make a good match, they commit to one another for a lifetime. The, um, matched mates form a family unit where they become productive members of society. Sort of like a stronger together, more than the sum of their parts thing. The expectation is for these family units to produce offspring, but that’s not always the case.”

“I see. So gestures such as a mouth kiss are part of the courting process intended to attract a mate.”

“Exactly! And you’re not trying to attract me as a mate, so… Yeah,” Woo laughs awkwardly, hoping the topic gets dropped.

“Hm.” The table falls quiet for a few minutes as Mingi finishes his ice cream cone and Woo his piece of pizza. Wooyoung wonders if he’d confused the other, or if he’d somehow offended him without knowing it. He mentally prepares an apology; but, thankfully, it’s Mingi that breaks the silence between them.

“You said that humans commit to one another for a lifetime?”

“Huh? Oh- Oh yeah. That’s the intention, anyway. It, um, doesn’t always end up like that.”

“But it is the standard, yes?”

“I guess you could say that. The ideal one.”

“Hm,” Mingi nods again, and a small smile crosses his plush lips. “Interesting.”

“Is it? Honestly I always found the idea of finding a mate for life stressful.”

“Where I’m from there is no concept of such emotions or commitments.”

“Really?”

“Yes. We… Don’t have any such concept or system in place. I’ve heard it happens, but it is rare. Very rare.”

“So, what do you mean no commitment. Like, you don’t commit to one person, or-?”

“One person?!” Mingi chuckles. “Wait- You mean to say humans only reproduce with one person?”

  
“I- Well, no, not always. But, I think that’s the, um, mainstream idea, yeah. Just. Two people together for the rest of their lives.”

“That sounds like a terribly inefficient way to sustain a population.”

“It, uh, works for us. What did you mean, then?”

“I was referring to the commitment. The lifetime. And the deep, tender affection. We have no concept of such a thing where I am from. Once we finish mating we part ways. Mates are chosen based on their perceived suitability.”

“Wait- You just hit it and quit it? What about the children?”

“Once the carrier is done incubating the eggs, they’re laid in the dome’s nest and left to hatch.”

“But- but who raises you? How do you eat?”

“There are, well, I guess the best word is caretaker? There are caretakers at the nest whose job it is to rear the offspring until we are fertile.”

“Oh.” Wooyoung frowns. Maybe that lifestyle works for Mingi and his people, but that sounds terrible to him. “But- Then how do you make family connections?”

“We weave our own support networks, you could say. Friends and allies become our family, but our mates and kin? No. But, it sounds nice. To have a family like that. Your unit here is quite lovely. To cultivate and raise offspring from the moment of birth, to be able to know the kin generations older than you, to glean their wisdom. And to know your mate...” He sighs wistfully. “It truly does seem nice.”

Wooyoung’s heart aches for the other. Even as a human, he can understand the desire for that. It’s not as if he wants to settle down today and have children, but some day down the road he would like that. That desire, that want for lifelong companionship, for fulfilment and family, it burrows a hole in his heart.

  
That is something they have in common.


	6. Humans, Aliens and Fire

The pile of wood burning in the firepit crackles softly. Embers dance from the heart of the flames up into the sky, disappearing into the stars. It’s a beautiful, clear night, and grandmother insisted on doing a fire. “Fire is good for the soul,” She said that afternoon, “It’s in our blood and bones, it’s what makes us human.” Promptly after dropping the little proverb, she asked the two young, able-bodied boys to venture into the woods and grab some wood. Wooyoung always thought grabbing wood to be a chore before, but with Mingi’s company, even the dullest of tasks are ten times more pleasant.

The two chattered as they lazily plucked branches off of the ground. They took a detour to the crash site, and Mingi gave Wooyoung a tour of what was left. 

“It’s okay. It’s safe to touch,” Mingi told the human, guiding his hand along the hull. Wooyoung gasped, realizing the weight of reality - that this thing he was touching had traversed the vacuum of space, it had travelled through star systems and galaxies and he touched it. It felt smooth, and in spite of living underneath the oppressive heat of the sun day in and day out, it was cool to the touch. Most of the exterior was covered in rubble and dust, but what he saw of it had a red color. When Mingi invited him to leap into the cockpit, he lifted the human up with surprising strength. Wooyoung yelped as his body rose high up, and he glanced into the hole Mingi crawled out of with utter wonder. The human extended his hands toward the edge, ready to ease himself in, when, all of a sudden, a snake’s head popped out of the thing. He yelped, which made Mingi yelp, and the two bolted from the clearing.

“Ever get to do this in the city, Mingi?” Wooyoung’s grandmother asks, rocking contently in her chair by the fire.

“No, ma’am. We don’t have this stuff where I’m from,” Mingi responds. He watches it, completely mesmerised. Wooyoung can see the fire reflected in the alien’s dark eyes, the way the amber light dances across his face, highlights and shadows painting a mask atop the human one Wooyoung has come to know. “It is… Warm.”

“Yup,” Wooyoung says with a grin. “Perfect for roasting marshmallows.” He plucks a couple from the bag they bought earlier and sticks them on a couple of sticks they sharpened. “Hmm… Trying to wonder if you’re a golden brown guy or if you like to set the whole thing on fire.”

Wooyoung starts one at a time. His marshmallow roasting strategy is methodical. Slow and steady wins the race, as he says, and being too hasty is a sure way to set the ball of sugar alight too quickly. He rotates it above the core of the fire instead of sticking it in the flames. It’s not as flashy or apparent, but he can see the color catch gradually, promising the perfect marshmallow. He decides he can show Mingi both types of marshmallow and see which one he approves of.

“Hey, Mingi, yours is almost done!” Woo tells the other happily. The other doesn’t respond, which prompts Wooyoung to glance up. Mingi got closer - much closer - to the fire, and he leans over it almost as if hypnotized. “Mingi?”

The alien extends a hand toward the flames.

“Mingi what are you doing?”

The other acts as if he can’t hear the human, fingers extending closer and closer to the flame. Wooyoung drops his marshmallow stick and rushes to the other’s side, but it’s too late. The flames grow, licking the alien’s human hand, and he jumps back with a scream.

“Mingi!” Wooyoung frowns. “Mingi, what the heck?!”

The pink-haired alien, apparently out of his daze, shakes his head, “I- I’m sorry, I- It hurt. It- it hurt-”

“Yeah, it’s fire.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Are you alright dear?” Woo’s grandmother makes a move to get up.

“Don’t worry about it, grandma. I’ll take care of it,” Wooyoung assures the elder. She grumbles in protest but remains seated, thankfully. “C’mon Mingi, inside.”

Wooyoung grabs the other’s wrist and drags him into the kitchen. The other obliges his barked order to stand still and let cool water run over the burn. It’s nothing serious, thank god, just a little red spot, a cautionary kiss of the flame. The human rifles through the cupboards until he finds the aloe and antibacterial ointment.

“What was that about?” Wooyoung asks. He takes the other’s burned hand and inspects it. “Just like I thought. Not too bad.”

“I-I didn’t think it’d hurt,” Mingi sniffles. When Woo takes his gaze off of the other’s hand to meet his eyes, they’re wet with remorse. 

“Mingi, it’s fire. Of course it’s going to hurt. It burns things, that’s what it does. Look at what happened to the wood.”

“It is so warm and nice. And the light...”

“I know it’s very pretty, but you can’t touch it. Humans have learned to harness it, but we can’t actually just touch the stuff. It’s pure energy.”

“I see.”

Wooyoung sighs, rubbing the antibacterial ointment onto the alien’s hands first. His fingers bore the brunt of the burn, so Wooyoung takes extra time massaging it in. Mingi’s hands are so much bigger than his. His own fascination sidetracks him. The digits are so long and bony. Made of the same stuff his are, yet so different - much like the rest of his human form. 

Mingi once said that his body “adapted” to Earth, but he never really elaborated on what that meant. Sure, humans are technically Earth’s apex predator, but why  _ this  _ human form? Why so tall, so long and lanky, so muscular and lithe? And what of the face - the pointed nose and impossible to miss, plush lips? Wooyoung wants to believe that the human Mingi he sees somehow relates to what the true Mingi looks like. He’s gotten hints here and there. There’s some straw-tongue situation. He’s colorful, and eggs are involved which rules out mammalian origins. Then again, even attempting to relate an alien’s body to any creature from Earth is likely a fool’s errand. 

Yet, it doesn’t stop Woo from trying.

He so badly wants to know - who is the alien underneath the handsome human skin? Mingi expressed fear that the human would be afraid. Is that because he is terrifying or disgusting?

“I’m sorry again,” Mingi murmurs.

“It’s fine.”

“It just looked so inviting. Like it called out to me.”

“Well, let it call from a safe distance from now on, okay?” Wooyoung moves on to applying the aloe.

“Oh- That’s nice,” Mingi sighs happily. 

Wooyoung works the gel into Mingi’s large hands and between his long fingers.

“Have you ever burned yourself, Wooyoung?”

“Huh? Me? Of course,” The human laughs at the sudden question.

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s terrible!” 

“Yes! I definitely do not intend to repeat that. No matter how alluring the flames are!” Mingi says with a determination that is downright comical to Woo.

Wooyoung giggles at the other’s seriousness, “Yeah, best to not do that.” He gives the other’s hand a gentle squeeze and a kiss, “There, all better.”

Mingi’s lifted mood falls flat, and he stares at his hand in silence. Awkwardness crawls under Wooyoung’s skin like worms all begging the question: what have you done? He genuinely does not understand what caused the other’s short-circuit for a moment. Then, it clicked, the match struck and the little flame of realization lit in his head.

He just kissed Mingi.

Sure it was not some sloppy, feverish mouth kiss, but it was a kiss nonetheless, something Wooyoung explained to imply specific things. Mingi is clever, but he’s concrete and probably confused by the action.

“It’s not a big deal,” Wooyoung coughs loudly, almost suffocating in the awkward fog billowing throughout the room, “Just a little get well kiss. You don’t need to read much into it.”

“Oh. Okay,” Mingi nods. He takes his hand back hastily. “Let’s go back to the fire.”

“R-Right,” Wooyoung follows the other.

He watches closely the rest of the night. Mingi prefers his marshmallows burnt to crisp, he learns. Aside from the exchange of marshmallow to mouth, Mingi doesn’t speak much to Woo. Or look much. His eyes remain transfixed on the heart of the fire.


	7. Humans, Aliens and the Common Cold

Raindrops race down the foggy windows, streaking the condensation with shaky lines of clarity. Beyond the window, the summer rain paints a gloomy picture with tones of gray and brown. What little light sneaks through the cloud cover gets reflected back by the wet, slick surfaces below. 

Wooyoung curses as he runs in the last of the laundry that’d been drying outside. 

“Wooyoung, did I just hear you say a curse word?” His grandmother’s voice echoes out from the living room.

“N-No, grandma!” Woo rebuts nervously, running to hang everything in the shower room. It’s been a quiet morning - excessively so, given the distinct lack of Mingi. Usually the pink-haired alien would be helping out or keeping grandma company while Wooyoung did some chores. However, Woo hasn’t seen him today. He wonders if the other snuck off to his ship without him noticing.

By the time all of the dripping clothes are hung up, Woo’s grandmother has already nodded off in front of the television. He sighs, giving her a quick kiss and deciding to follow suit. A yawn stretches through his entire body, making the idea all the more appealing. He’s still curious about his alien friend’s whereabouts, but the drowsiness tugging at his eyelids starts to take over.

The bedroom looks twenty times darker due to the overcast sky and drawn curtains. If not for the sizable shadow shifting on top of his bed, Woo probably would’ve jumped straight into it. He freezes for an instant, paralyzed with fear, wondering if some wild critter or monster snuck into his bed.

“M-Mingi?” Wooyoung asks softly, drawing the conclusion that it’s the most logical choice. Nothing verbal comes in response, but the shadow does wiggle a bit.

“Mingi?” Woo tries again. His eyes begin to adjust, and he’s certain that it’s his alien friend taking up residence in his sheets.

The alien looks tiny, swaddled in a plush duvet and curled up on himself. He stirs sluggishly and acknowledges Wooyoung with a soft hum. When the human flicks on the light, the other appears dazzled and rushes to cover his eyes. His human visage scrunches into a grimace at the intrusion.

“Wooyoung!” His face flushes sheepishly, “I’m sorry for sleeping in your bed. It just looked so cozy, and you weren’t using it.” He appears more ruddy than usual, face sleep-swollen and antannae out and frazzled, almost as if they’d gotten puffed up after a cycle in a machine dryer.

“Oh- That’s fine. I’m just- I was surprised you weren’t up yet. You’re usually the first to rise.”

“Really? How long have I been asleep?”

  
“Well, it’s probably been…” Wooyoung tries to remember when they ended up falling asleep. He’s pretty sure Mingi passed out first which is actually fairly unprecedented. Woo remembers the other drooling on his shoulder halfway into the cooking show they were watching - that was between one and two in the morning. “Oh- Crap! It’s been almost twelve hours.”

“Twelve hours? That’s quite a long time, isn’t it?”

“It’s about half a day, Mingi. We’ve been over this.”

“R-Right. I’m sorry,” The alien frowns, wrapping the blankets around himself more tightly.

“You don’t have to apologize. I just- Were you really tired or something? What did we even do yesterday…?”

“If I recall, you took your grandmother shopping, and I tended to the ship.”

“Hm. Nothing out of usual. I’m not gonna force you to get up, but I’m making food soon. You haven’t eaten in a while, so, you probably should get something in your stomach.”

“I… Don’t feel hungry, but you’re right,” Mingi nods, unravelling himself from the blanket cocoon he had created. 

“With clothes,” Wooyoung coughs out after getting the jarring reminder that the other doesn’t like “confining his body during rest”. He averts his gaze, hearing the other shuffle round the room slothfully to find something that fits. “I think this weather is perfect for noodles, I was thinking-”

His rambling gets cut off by a loud thud.

Wooyoung gasps, following the sound to find Mingi leaning heavily against one of the closet doors. The alien appears completely dazed, mind very visibly struggling to keep pace with his body - or vice versa.

“Whoa- Hey! Are you okay?”

The alien doesn’t give an answer at first; he delivers a bleary sort of blink, a nonverbal “I’m confused”. Wooyoung takes a step back in an attempt to discern the other’s body language, to glean anything from the alien’s odd state. Something about the rise and fall of his chest comes off as exaggerated, and the ruddy flush across his cheeks doesn’t strike Woo as the healthy kind. 

“My body… It is behaving strangely today,” The alien murmurs hoarsely.

Wooyoung takes the liberty to reach up and press his palm against the other’s forehead. His eyes widen at the shocking swell of heat upon contact, like the surface of a furnace. 

“Mingi, how are you feeling?”

“What?”

“How are you feeling? Are you sick?”

“Sick?”

“Yeah, like, do you have a headache or something?”

“Head ache…”

“Yes- A headache. Does your head hurt?”

“I- Does my head… Hurt? I suppose there is a… A tension in my temples… Why do you ask?”

“You’re feeling dizzy? Woozy?”

“Um-”

“Unsteady? Off balance?”

“W-Well, I suppose that is what resulted in me stumbling. B-but, it’s no cause for concern-”

“I think it is. Sit down on the bed.”

“But, I thought you advised I eat-”

“Just- just listen to your human confidant, okay?!”

“Y-Yes, sir,” Mingi nods, wide-eyed, and allows the other to guide him back to the bed by hand. Woo reaches a hand out again to feel the other’s forehead and, yeah, that’s hot (temperature wise, of course). Heat seeps into his palm from the other’s forehead. 

“You’re burning up,” Woo frowns.

“B-burning?! Is it because of the fire?” Mingi asks concernedly.

“N-No!” Wooyoung chuckles. “No, it’s not that it’s just- I think you might have a fever.”

“A… Fever?”

“Um, wait here.”

“But what about the food.”

“Just wait here,” Wooyoung instructs the other before trotting over to the kitchen where the first aid supplies and medications are kept. He grabs a thermometer along with over the counter fever reducers. Given that Mingi’s body is human, the meds should work - at least, that’s Wooyoung’s hope. He’s dubious about the dosage given that Mingi’s a lot bigger than the average human, but he’s far from knowledgeable enough to dare play pharmacist.

The human returns, medication, thermometer and a glass of water in hand. In his few minutes of absence, the other has managed to wrap himself up yet again into a tight, plush coil.

“Let’s take your temperature.”

“What are you-”

“This gives me a reading on your body’s internal temperature,” Wooyoung explains, knowing to expect an onslaught of questions at this point. “For humans, their core temperature is indicative of their health. High temps are a sign that your body’s trying to fight something.”

“Oh.”

Normally, the alien would barrage Wooyoung with dozens more questions ranging from related to far-fetched, but not today. The pink-haired alien is content to open his mouth and clamp his lips shut around the probe as prompted, not so much as a peep leaving his lips throughout the process.

“Ah- You’re close to thirty-eight. You’ve definitely got a fever. Have you been coughing?”

“Coughing?”

“Um, like, your lungs are forcing air out through your throat and mouth. It’s like, sorta feels like squeezing and scratchy? Sorry, I’m not explaining this well.”

“I- I can’t say I have experienced something like that, but, well, I do have the head ache you spoke of.”

“Take this,” Woo says, offering the pills and water, “You put the pill in your mouth and swallow it down with water, okay?”

“O...Kay.”

Mingi follows the first part of his instructions well, tossing the pills into his mouth. Then, Wooyoung hears a loud crunch, and he sees the other’s face contort with a mix of regret and disgust.

“I said swallow!” Woo scolds the alien. Mingi’s eyes tear up, and Wooyoung isn’t sure if it’s from pain, the bitter, artificial taste of the pills, or just pure remorse. “Just wash it down with water!”

Mingi obliges, gulping down what’s left of the water, all the while flinching and wincing from the unpleasantness of it all. “It hurts,” He whines when he’s finally gotten everything down.

Wooyoung sighs, “Sounds like you got a little cold. You need to hydrate a lot, okay?”

“Hydrate. Water. Got it,” The alien stands up and wobbles a bit.

“Hey-” Woo reaches out and catches him before he ends up starfishing on the floor. “You also need to rest.”

“Do I?”

  
“What? Yes. Don’t people ever get sick where you’re from? You need bed rest to allow your body to recuperate.”

“I’m sure I can endure it.”

“You’ll only make it worse.”

“But my ship-”

“Bed.”

“And I’ll miss grandmother-”

“You’ll get her sick, and then we’ll really have a problem.”

“Surely I can hydrate and inspect my shi- ah!” Mingi yelps, teetering back onto the bed from a gentle push, courtesy of the human. 

“Yeah, no. You need to rest.”

“But I even put clothing on.”

“Then you can take it off- when I’m not right here!” Wooyoung grabs the blankets and wraps them around the other. He never thought his life would lead him to a place in which he’d be tucking a tall alien into bed - but life has funny ways of twisting fate, it seems. “I’ll be back, okay. You need to rest, but let’s get at least a bit of food in you first, okay?”

“Mmm,” Mingi hums, already half-asleep, receding further into the blankets.

  
Wooyoung frowns as he makes another trip back to the kitchen. His heart sinks, a pang of sadness hitting him at the thought of Mingi so downtrodden and in pain. He’s so used to the other, bright and curious, hovering at his side, like a little butterfly fluttering about. Though he is mostly assured that it’s nothing serious, the paranoid part of him can’t stop cooking up worst-case-scenarios. What if his alien body somehow can’t cope with the cold? What if it’s worse than he thinks? What if he pushes himself and gets hurt? If it does progress into something nastier, what is Wooyoung going to do? Would a compromised Mingi be able to blend in at a doctor’s? What if he babbles and ends up alarming the doctors? What if somebody catches on to the fact that he’s an alien? What if they take him away?

Woo makes up conspiracy theories in his head while his hands go through the almost second-nature motions of ramyun making. He usually likes to jazz up the basic dish, but he decides to keep it plain for the sick alien, hoping it’s enough. He grabs a tray table and carries it down the hall, extra careful not to make the floor into a ramyun splatter art piece. 

“Knock, knock,” Wooyoung says quietly as he enters.

In spite of his bad condition, Mingi did take the time and effort to disrobe - something apparent by the shed layers littering the floor around the bed. A pair of dark eyes peek out from a tiny opening in the blanket cocoon, glossed over with bleariness but intrigued nonetheless. The other resembles a slug with the slow way he slithers up and mindfully keeps his swaddling intact.

“I told you, you should eat something,” Woo sets down the tray table and perches on the edge of the bed. 

“I- I would’ve been fine,” Mingi mumbles. “I’m sorry to be such a burden.”

“Huh? No! Don’t apologize. It’s more burdensome for you to be sick.”

“It- it is?! I- I’m sorry for being sick!”

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that! I meant- like- I just- I want you to get well. And your body needs energy and rest, so, you need food.”

“I’m sure the human body can survive quite a while without sustenance, though it’s not ideal.”

“Wha- I’m not gonna let you starve, dummy! So, eat up,” Wooyoung gestures to the ever so glamorous bowl of ramyun he spent all of five minutes preparing.

“O-Okay. Right. I mean. Yes, of course!” Mingi tries to sound sincere and grateful through the haze of sickness. His earnest effort is adorable, but he’s still obviously unwell, voice scratchy and body wavering.

Woo helps him get the tray table onto the bed and watches as Mingi lifts the bowl to his lips. His eyes shut as he savors the hot, salty broth, a small sigh of contentment leaking out from his throat. Wooyoung’s heart flutters with elation at the sight, but seeing Mingi try to take a bite is another matter.

The alien has always struggled with chopsticks, and the addition of sickness does nothing to help. Mingi shakily attempts to grip the chopsticks, dropping one then the other. Wooyoung watches, rapt, like the other’s attempt at using chopsticks is more intense and thrilling than the World Cup. As the alien’s jittery hand approaches the bowl, the stress overwhelms Wooyoung to the point that he has to intervene.

“L-Let me,” Wooyoung says more than asks. He snatches the chopsticks and grabs a healthy portion of noodles blowing on them and lifting them toward the alien’s face. “Here.”

Mingi blinks confusedly, eyes darting between the human and the offering of noodles dangling between the chopsticks.

“Come on,” Wooyoung encourages the other. “You don’t have to finish, but take at least one bite.”

“You- you intend to feed me?” Mingi’s voice turns into a squeak.

“It’s just easier this way.”

“I- Well, that is correct,” The pink-haired alien fidgets with his fingers, struggling to maintain eye contact.

“Is...That a problem?”

“No! No, not at all! I am just- to be honest, I- Wooyoung, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Woo lowers the chopsticks back into the bowl. Anxiety and curiosity toil in his stomach, schrodinger’s reaction - the simultaneous existence of both until the reality of the inquiry can reveal a singular emotion.

“Why are you so kind?” The alien asks timidly.

What he gets is relief, mixed with a tint of embarrassment, “Huh? A-Am I? Kind?”

Mingi nods, “Of course you are. Do you not see that?”

“Not really, I guess. I mean. I dunno. You’re sick. Of course I want to help you feel better.”

“From what I know, it is not customary for humans to be so accommodating.”

“I mean- well, most humans aren’t faced with your situation. You’re an alien that’s ended up lost, thousands of lightyears or whatever from your home. You’re totally alone here, and you have no idea what’s going on, what the culture is- any of it. What kind of person would I be if I just kicked you out and made you go out on your own?”

“A cautious one?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, you know nothing about me. I could eat you in your sleep. You took quite a risk to allow me to take shelter, but… You didn’t just do that. You have been… Kind. An ally. A… A…”

“Friend?”

“You consider me a friend?” Wooyoung swears Mingi’s eyes - in spite of how unwell he is - light up like the night sky, glimmering with starlight and wonder.

“Of course I do!”

Mingi clutches his blanket tightly but doesn’t give further response. Wooyoung wonders if it’s just a trick of the light or if the other is even more flushed. He takes it as a bad sign and urges the other again.

“And, I want my friends to be well, so,” Woo picks up the chopsticks, “Open up.”

Mingi nods, suddenly reinvigorated, and leans forward, lips parted. 


	8. Humans, Aliens and Traffic

Vivid pops of green trees and azure blue paint the passing landscape in colorful blurs. Wooyoung pedals as quickly as he reasonably can, delighting in the breeze’s respite from the oppressive summer heat. Mingi’s grasp on his shoulders is firm and steady; the alien’s nervous grip borders on blistering, but Wooyoung allows it, favoring being held tightly to the other rolling off onto the street. The alien cowered the first few times Wooyoung invited him to ride on the pegs of the old bicycle grandmother kept for him. But, after a few quick rides up and down the street, he acclimated. Wooyoung told him frankly: if you can breach the stratosphere, crash into the earth and live, a few scabs from falling off pegs isn’t a big deal. Mingi griped a bit, murmured something about how such modes of transportation aren’t necessary where he’s from, but came to like it. 

Sure, it’s a bit more conspicuous than Woo would like. Not a lot of tall, handsome, pink-haired guys ride the pegs on a bicycle down the street in the country. They don’t really live or exist in the middle of nowhere. Wooyoung has almost gotten used to the attention, though, just as Mingi did the bike (and many other facets of human life).

“There it is,” Wooyoung nods down the hill toward their destination: the diner.

Today is the ultimate test. It’s finally time to see if Mingi can truly blend in with human society. A shop here or sparsely populated mall there is one thing, but this is different. Today, Wooyoung is not just taking Mingi to the diner in town center. No, the test is much more trying than that.

Today, after weeks of bullying, Wooyoung has finally agreed to meet up with his friend Yeonjun with Mingi in tow. 

Wooyoung clutches the handles tightly as gravity takes over, pulling them down the hill at an almost dangerous speed. Objectively, it’s a terrifying ride. The narrow road is surrounded by tall trees with thick roots that jut out every which way, even cutting into the sidewalk, reducing the concrete to rubble. The drop off on the hillside is steep, full of jagged rocks before dropping off entirely. Luckily, Woo’s ridden down it so many times on dares and challenges that he could do it blindfolded. Mingi lets out a gasp, hands closing around Woo’s shoulders even more tightly as they zoom down. Dread and nervousness mounts as they descend, approaching the diner all too rapidly.

The human has already formulated answers in his head for the questions he knows will come his way. Where is he from? He’s a friend from overseas. He lived over there for a long time but his family moved back. How did you meet him? Through family friends. Why is he so weird? Different culture. What does he like? He likes machines. Where does he go to school? He’s taking a gap year to explore options in the country and overseas. Woo even looped a hesitant Mingi into it (reminding him how problematic it would be for other humans to know his identity, of course).

“I-It’s the blue building, right?” Mingi asks, pointing to the aforementioned flamboyantly branded building in front of them.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung nods. “There it is. The ultimate test…”

  
“The ulti-what?”

“N-Nothing!”

“Hey loser!” A loud voice calls out to them.

“Oh god,” Woo mutters.

  
“Did that man just call you a loser?” Mingi asks, his pout apparent in his tone alone.

“Over here! Yo!”

“Of course we don’t even get a second to breathe,” Wooyoung whispers to himself while he brakes. Waving enthusiastically by the entrance is none other than his longtime friend, Choi Yeonjun. 

“What’s up!?” Yeonjun beams, bouncing excitedly in place.

“What’s up with you, blue hair?” Wooyoung grins, chaining his bike to the railing by the entrance.

“Oh, you like it? I was feeling very anime, I dunno. Hey- Who’s this. This is…”

“Mingi!” Wooyoung rushes to answer. The alien blinks confusedly, an amicable grin on his face. He gives Yeonjun a friendly wave but shows no intention of anything else - ideal, really.

“Nice to meet you! Woo told me you’re, like, foreign.”

“From overseas,” Wooyoung corrects him.

“I lived overseas, too, in America!” Yeonjun beams. Mingi nods even though he definitely has no idea what or where America is. It’s at this point that Woo realizes he should’ve fleshed out Mingi’s backstory a little better. He feels silly, being so invested in his alien friend’s fictional life story, like he’s a D&D character or something.

“Okay, let’s get a table,” Wooyoung hastens the process. “I’m starving.”

The fine fragrance of fried food and syrup wafts into Wooyoung’s nose, immediately putting him at ease. There’s nothing like fries and a shake to ease a wary man’s worries. Mingi slides into the booth next to Wooyoung while Yeonjun takes the seat across, energetically blabbering about what he and Soobin did last weekend and whatever football game he saw.

“What’ll you be having today?” The waitress asks when she comes by.

Yeonjun starts, “May I please have a cheeseburger, no onion, no pickle, medium well?”

“Fries alright.”

“Yes, please.”

“And you?” The waitress turns to Mingi next. Wooyoung feels his blood pressure skyrocket.

“Me?” Mingi appears equally surprised, looking to his human companion for guidance. “U-Um- What are they called the- the carbohydrate stri-”

“Fries!” Wooyoung, face blazing, cuts in.

“Fries,” Mingi echoes with a smile. “May I please have fries and…”

“A shake! Vanilla!” Wooyoung rushes to finish. They both grin at their waitress sheepishly. Woo notices the slightest crack in her porcelain visage of politeness. She’s probably judging the hell out of him, thankfully customer service decorum dictates she keep it to herself. Wooyoung hurries to give his order, and the waitress scribbles in her notepad as she walks away. One crisis averted. At most, Mingi seems weird. Nobody should think he’s an alien, though. Wooyoung can deal with having an odd friend according to the public eye.

“How come there are no chopsticks?” Mingi asks, checking the napkin dispenser and sugar packets as if someone had hidden utensils there.

Yeonjun snorts, “How long were you overseas again?”

“Overseas?” Mingi asks confusedly.

“Uh- Like, not here,” Wooyoung tries to clarify for Mingi, panic dialing up to an eleven internally. This is the hard part.

“Oh, well, I just arrived some… Hm. Sixty daylight cycles ago?”

“Still working on the language, huh?”

“I learn a little bit every day!” Mingi beams proudly.

“Hey, you play ball?” Jun asks, quickly changing the subject. With his attention span, it doesn’t surprise Woo one bit. The guy will probably drive the conversation two-hundred different ways over the course of their meal. It’s always kept Woo on his toes; he just hopes that it also serves to cover up any holes that might be in Mingi’s story.

“Ball?” Mingi asks. Woo knows he’s shown Mingi football, but Yeonjun isn’t talking about that. He dies a little on the inside, trying to think of ways to salvage the situation.

“Yeah. Basketball. You know-” Yeonjun mimics dribbling. “-ball?”

“I can’t say I know that,” Mingi answers frankly.

“He’s not much of an athlete,” Woo adds.

“Damn. Woo, you should totally hook him up with Guanlin. Guy’s always trying to find guys for his pickup team, and you’re probably, like, one of the tallest guys I know now.”

“Thank you!” Mingi grins.

The blue-haired guy snorts, “I- Stop. You’re so funny- Woo, this guy’s so funny.”

“I am?” Mingi asks, raising his brows at the human.

“You definitely have a… Funny way about you,” Wooyoung laughs, dying internally.

Their conversation goes similarly until the food arrives. Yeonjun tries to grill Mingi, Mingi answers obtusely - often in completely unfitting ways - and Wooyoung plays middleman, “translating” and deflecting weirdness like some sort of an anti-awkward shield. He’s not sure how well he’s doing, but once the food arrives, all is forgotten. Mostly.

Wooyoung reminds Mingi that fries are finger food and can be eaten with hands - even out in public. Yeonjun teaches the alien to dip fries into milkshakes, inciting a controversial argument between the two humans. Their banter gets abruptly interrupted when Mingi dumps his entire order of fries into his shake, noting how it’s “much more efficient”.

Woo finally takes a second to relax when the alien whispers that he’s experiencing “pressure in the bladder” - his cute, unique way of saying he needs to pee. Unfortunately, his second truly is just a single second. No sooner than the alien is out of earshot does Yeonjun lean forward with a smirk.

“So, what’s his deal?” Jun asks, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

“Huh? Who’s deal?”

“Prince Bubblegum- who’s deal do you think?”

“Oh, Mingi?”

“Yes, idiot. Him. What’s the story?”

“Uh- There is no story,” Wooyoung mutters, cheeks and ears tinting pinker than the alien’s hair.

“Ha-ha-ha- okay. No, seriously. What’s up?”

“What? Nothing is up, dude. He’s just- a guy I met.”

“How?” The blue-haired guy raises his eyebrows inquisitively.

“Family friend thing. He’s one of grandma’s friends' grandsons. Happened to be in town ‘cause his family moved back. You know how grandparents are. They just want all of their kids to be friends.”

“So, why’s he here, then?”

“You said it was fine?”

“I’m not saying it’s a problem! I actually like him. He’s hilarious in an unassuming, alien crash landed on Earth kind of way.”

“What?!” Wooyoung yelps.

“You know, he’s a little, uh, different. Was he home schooled? Has he asked you to take him to your leader?”

“Oh my god, no! No, no- he’s not a-” Wooyoung tries to fake a laugh but it comes out more like a wheeze, “-an alien? That’s ridiculous.”

“Bro, you realize you’re acting sketchier than he is right now.”

“Mingi is not sketchy! He’s chill.”

“He’s chill?” Yeonjun asks incredulously.

“He’s- Well- He is different. Very foreign. But he’s a good guy. He’s learning a lot every day. Yeah he’s a little different, a little odd, but…” Woo shrugs. “I dunno. That’s why he’s so loveable.”

“Hmm… No, something is definitely weird,” Yeonjun squints in the general direction of the restrooms.

Wooyoung positively bakes in his seat, panic crackling under his skin like electricity, “What- What are you talking about?” The two have known each other since middle school, and he can tell that Yeonjun is seeing right through him. He just prays to whatever deities are out there that the guy doesn’t call anything out. Normally, Wooyoung would be totally confident that anyone who truly thought a person was suspicious would at least have the tact not to mention it to their face.

But this is Yeonjun.

The guy may very well tell Mingi “you’re sus” right to his face.

Yeonjun narrows his eyes at his longtime friend, and Woo wonders if this is what it feels like to know a missile is locking onto you. He girds his loins for the oncoming inappropriate interrogation. Yeonjun opens his mouth, and it’s like witnessing a train wreck in slow motion. Wooyoung just waits for things to go terribly wrong, for him to call him out on his fakery, to ask so many questions that Woo breaks down, tells him the truth, and gets called a lunatic.

“Mingi…” Yeonjun starts. “You…”

Oh no, here it is. Wooyoung clasps his hands together so tightly his knuckles are white as paper, straining with tension. 

“You like him, don’t you?” Yeonjun says triumphantly, slamming his hands on the table. “Don’t lie!” A massive smirk stretches across his face.

“I promise he’s  _ normal- _ ! Wait- Y-You think I- wha-”

“Ah-ha! You didn’t even deny it!” The other points a finger at him like some attorney in a courtroom drama.

“Wait, wait- hold up. Me? Me like- Like Mingi?” The thought of it makes Wooyoung’s stomach toss with anxiety. Heat flares to his cheeks, embarrassment sucker punching him when he’d been expecting something entirely different.

“But why the weird secrecy, though? Come on, man, you can tell me anything.”

“Uh- But- No- No, no, no! You’re totally misunderstanding!” Woo panics.

“Am I, though? ‘Cause, like… I mean. A guy like that doesn’t come around these parts often. Or ever, really.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Woo laughs wryly. “You could say he’s from a whole other world. But- Trust me, it’s not- not like that. We’re not an item.”

“So if  _ I _ asked him out-”

“You can’t! I- I mean, you. Shouldn’t. I don’t know how long he’ll be around. He might go back overseas at the end of the summer.”

  
The words come out without much forethought, but after hearing them, Wooyoung’s heart dips a little. In truth, he’s been enjoying the other’s company so much, he hasn’t really thought much about the reality of their situation. Sure, the ship’s repair status comes up in conversation sometimes. Wooyoung tries to needle Mingi about his home - usually to little success. But not once have they ever addressed the fact that, though it feels like it exists in a ceaseless microcosm, summer does end.

One day, the cicadas will stop singing.

Will Mingi go with them?

“Oh, I get it. So you two, is it just, like, a summer fling, thing? No big commitment? FWB?”

“What is FWB?” Mingi appears out of nowhere, and Woo’s pretty sure if his heart wasn’t tethered to his blood vessels, it’d have jumped out of his throat.

“Nothing~” Yeonjun singsongs with a smug grin. “So, Mingi, tell me more about where you’re from?”

“O-Oh,” The alien chuckles nervously. “I’d rather hear more about where you’re from. Both of you. You knew Wooyoung, right?”

“Knew Wooyoung? Did I know Wooyoung, he asks,” Yeonjun laughs. “Oh, I’ve got stories. The question is: how humiliating do you want it to be.”

“I’ve come to learn that laughing at the expense of other humans is a fun form of ironic humor!” Mingi smiles. The blue-haired guy laughs before transitioning into a dramatic retelling of the time he and Wooyoung tried to learn an idol dance to impress their classmates.

Yeonjun’s a good storyteller, but even better: he’s happy to talk. Wooyoung contently takes the back seat, keeping his attention on Mingi to assure the other doesn’t trip up too much. Save for a few small, awkward behaviors, he does well. The truth is, he does more than well. Mingi laughs easily, nods and engages nicely, and listens attentively. He’s cunning and clever, managing to lead Yeonjun around more sensitive subjects until he goes off on another tangent. Wooyoung can’t help but feel a little proud. He doesn’t want to take total credit for him, but he likes to think at least some of Mingi’s prowess is a result of his close attention.

A bittersweet feeling fills Wooyoung, bubbling up his chest and into his throat. He starts to wonder if Mingi even needs him anymore. Or, could he walk among mankind, strange but unnoticed, innocuous enough to draw little more than a double-take because of his appearance? That is, objectively, good, and Wooyoung is proud of him for learning so much - glad he’s been so  _ eager  _ to learn. But, for a reason he can’t quite place, it leaves a hollow in his heart. He supposes that typifies the entire bittersweet, watching birds leave the nest type of emotion - the sad part of it all. After all, without the acrid bitterness, it would simply be sweet.

“Oh, crap, Woo, don’t you have to go?” Yeonjun’s voice cuts through Wooyoung’s thoughts.

“Huh?” Wooyoung blinks confusedly and checks his phone. “Oh- Ff- Yeah, you’re right.”

“Ugh, what would you do without me?” Yeonjun snarks. The two humans fish out bills from their bifolds to leave on the table. Yeonjun raises his eyebrows implicitly when he notices that Wooyoung paid for both himself and Mingi. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything.

They inform the waitstaff that they left their cash and make a hasty exit. The two stall in front of the entrance, going off on tangents after saying goodbye another two, three times. It isn’t until Wooyoung unchains his bike that it’s really goodbye.

“Bye, Woo~ It was nice to meet you, Mingi!” Yeonjun beams.

Mingi grins back and waves, “You as well!”

“Bye!” Yeonjun grabs his own bike and starts walking in the opposite direction. He turns over his shoulder, eyes pointedly on Mingi, and imparts one final message. “Take care of him, Mingi!” The blue-haired man winks before riding off.

“Take care of- was he talking about you?” Mingi asks, completely oblivious.

Wooyoung, who’s fairly certain he understands what a boiled egg feels like at this point, shakes his head.

“Ignore him,” The human sputters out, embarrassed. “He’s a weirdo.”

Mingi just chuckles, clearly humored in spite of not understanding, “I believe it is you who is taking care of me. If only he knew.”

“I’m fine with him not knowing. He’d probably come up with, like, ten-thousand conspiracy theories if he did learn your true origins.”

“What if he did know?”

“Huh?”

“What if we told him?”

“Why would you want him to know?” Confusion twists in Wooyoung’s stomach. Mingi has lived with his grandmother for a couple of months now and never once expressed a desire to inform her. Why would he want to tell Yeonjun, who he just met?

“Well, you seem to trust him. So why shouldn’t I?” Mingi shrugs. “He’s nice.”

“Eh. Not  _ that  _ nice,” Wooyoung rebuts sarcastically. He sighs. “Well, time for the fun part. The hike up.”

“Hike up?”

“Yeah. It’s too tough to pedal uphill with a passenger.”

“Oh. Oh,” Mingi frowns at the realization and pouts at the hill as if it will flatten out of pity. It doesn’t, and the two start their muggy ascent.

The sun has started its descent in the sky, soft pinks and oranges just cresting the horizon, but that does nothing to diminish the sticky summer heat. Mingi makes a few remarks about Yeonjun. He’s nice, pleasant, good company, an amicable ally. Wooyoung mutedly nods in agreement, his mind elsewhere. Where that is precisely, not even he knows. It’s not as if a single thing is distracting him. Instead, his mind floats around in limbo, unknowing and noncommittal, too swayed by various things to settle. There’s worrying about Mingi, about what Yeonjun thinks of him, about what Mingi thinks of Yeonjun- why is he so interested? What if he’s interested? Wooyoung has an internal crisis over that thought for a second, but even the cloying in his stomach at the thought of  _ that  _ doesn’t manage to persist for long. The result is a fuzzy white noise that blocks out the outside world to such an extent that even the hillside is nothing but a brown blur. 

Wooyoung hasn’t seen the crash site in weeks, and he’s curious as to the progress. The ship could be majorly reformed, on the cusp of takeoff, for all he knows. Mingi hasn’t mentioned it much. As a matter of fact, he avoids talking about it entirely. His reasoning is that the inner machinations of the thing would just boggle Wooyoung’s human mind, but is that a reason not to give a progress update? Is the progress pitiful or is it ready? What if he’s simply putting off goodbye, politely waiting for Wooyoung to be dismissed at the end of summer?

The pink-haired alien keeps mentioning Yeonjun. His hair is cool, it makes him feel less strange, he has a good aura. Why is he talking about the other so much? Other humans usually don’t fascinate Mingi to the extent of eliciting more than a couple of questions. Wooyoung is proud of the other, genuinely. The Mingi confidently conversing with other humans is a far cry from the naked man with antennaes eating his grandmother’s sweaters. He still can’t use chopsticks, though. Woo wonders if they have kid ones back at the house. Maybe he can start Mingi on those.

Then again, what is the point?

He’s leaving soon anyway, isn’t he?

What’s the point of any of this? Of taking him out, having him meet friends, showing him the ins and outs of human society, of how to human, of being a person and living among them. What’s the point of anything at all?

The white noise of it all - the thoughts, the worries, the paranoia, the anxiety, the triumphs and failures and remorse - it all blocks out the world, and it’s not until Wooyoung sees a flash of light that he’s brought back.

He’s brought back for an instant only to be taken out.

It happens so fast, yet it is agonizingly slow. Wooyoung wakes up from his contemplative stupor at the flash of a light, the glint of a truck’s window in the sunlight. The windshield beautifully reflects the view from the top of the hill - the stunning gradation of the sunset sky, the sprawl of trees and quaint buildings below. 

The two young men unlucky enough to be too close to the oblivious driver. 

It happens in a second that lasts an hour. The vehicle swerves onto the narrow sidewalk and it goes down, straight toward the two walking up. Wooyoung’s breath catches in this throat. It gets stuck there as if time itself froze and the stagnation disallowed him from finishing the breath. He sees it, the big, dark pickup barrelling toward him, too close and too high up to stop. There’s a sound. First, the sound of the wheel going over the sidewalk. A loud, ugly squeak - the wailing of inadequate, worn brakes. Wooyoung’s grip on the bike goes slack, and it hits the concrete with a soft thud, metal screeching as it skids down the hill.

Wooyoung is pretty sure this is the part where his life ought to flash before his eyes, but that doesn’t happen. There is no final highlight reel laying out his existences’s fancies and follies, no light at the end of the tunnel. All he sees is a hulking metal monster bearing over him, diesel engine roaring like a menacing predator as the heat radiating off of the grill sears his skin. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, as if that will help at all, as if not seeing can mitigate the pain before he meets his end. In the instant of awareness he has - that hour long moment - he turns to find Mingi, to shout a warning.

Before he can even turn around, the force hits him. The whiplash robs Wooyoung’s lungs of air. Everything goes blurry. Woo gasps and cries, desperate for air. His tears distort the world around him, the bleary obscurity further plunging him into the unknown, into inner chaos. His body flails uselessly, suspended in air, in slow motion yet again. He feels no pain and has no control. The sound of cutting air and trees crackling and rustling echoes into his ears.

His body gets dragged further and further into the heavens.

_ “Stop.” _ A voice speaks to him.

The only response Wooyoung can give is a strangled scream. 

_ “Settle.” _

  
Woo is still far from coherent, his body starting to go cold. He thanks whatever powers that may be for taking away his pain, but the frigid cold is jarring. 

_ “Wooyoung,” _ It calls out to him, the voice.

He doesn’t know what the voice, the god or gods, the angel, spirit or whatever it is wants from him. What does he possibly have to give? 

_ “Wooyoung, it’s okay.” _

Wooyoung gapes for air blinded by light. He can feel it wrap around his body. He doesn’t know what it is, but it constricts him, squeezing him by his chest and waist. He can feel his limp body dangle as if he is truly being pulled into the heavens by fishing line. His body quakes uselessly as he ascends. He surrenders to the string of fate tugging him up.

“Wooyoung.”

“Wh-wha-? Wai-wait-” Wooyoung manages to stutter out an answer. His ascent slows, and with it so does the world around him. He blinks the tears out of his eyes only to find himself blinded by the light of the setting sun.

“Be still,” The deep voice says softly.

“Wha-?” Though his mind doesn’t fully comprehend anything that’s happening, his body obliges. He lets himself hang, powerless to do anything else. The rush of panic begins to wean, giving way to exhaustion. Wooyoung’s head lolls, drawing his gaze down - a massive mistake. “Fff- A-aah-”

Screams pour from his mouth, scraping his throat on their way out. The sound of sirens from below is a faint echo. Beneath his feet he can see the entire hill going down into town, flashing lights and a stopped truck smaller than a toy, a steep slope covered with tangled trees. His entire world is down there. Everything - and everyone - but him. His inclination to question his mortality is thrown out in favor of his very mortal disinclination from being very high in the sky.

“Keep your eyes on me,” The voice says. Wooyoung tears his eyes away from the ground and gazes up. Dark shapes eclipse the dazzling sunlight, but Woo can’t really discern what he’s looking at. “We need to go…”

Wooyoung sniffs loudly, exhaustion and anxiety dimming his vision. The hold round him tightens as he’s moved. He can’t tell where he’s going - up, down, sideways, upside down. Does it matter? Everything is so quiet once the surge of panic fueled adrenaline starts to wean off.

“M-Mingi?” When he squints, Woo can just barely make out something familiar in the shadow mass. Feathery antannae.

“I’ve got you, Wooyoung.”

It  _ is  _ him.

Wooyoung clings to the appendages holding him. His fingers are still numb and tingly, the persistent impression left by the nervous break. He distracts himself by trying to take in the other’s true appearance, but their position relative to the sun doesn’t reveal much.

What he can see is wings. Massive and many, the wing-like silhouettes span beyond Wooyoung’s field of vision. Though he wants to know more about Mingi, the effects of everything that happened prove to be too much. His vision swims, smearing everything into blurry swill. The human dazedly runs his fingers along the appendages wrapped around him. They’re warm and shockingly soft. Silky even.

When Wooyoung comes to, he’s laying on his grandmother’s back porch. His chest is sore, and his memories muddy. Everything comes back quickly, though not clearly. They left the diner and walked up the hill. There was the truck. An abrupt force. Then the bright light, the sky. The wings.

“Mingi?” Wooyoung sits up and scans the small backyard, but there’s nothing. Just the trill of the cicadas like always. “Mingi?” He tries again. 

Anxiousness scurries across his skin, prompting him to get onto his feet and go inside.

“Grandma?” Wooyoung calls, walking through the kitchen into the living room.

  
The elderly woman sits in her normal perch, completely content and unaware. Wooyoung is fine keeping things that way. At this point, he’s not even sure he believes what happened; he’s certainly not interested in confusing his poor grandmother with the odd story.

“Oh- There you are. Did you have fun at the diner?”

“Uh- Yeah-”

“How is Yeonjunnie?”

“Uh- He’s good. He’s got blue hair now.”

“Blue hair?” She laughs. “Young kids these days will do anything to their hair, won’t they.”

“Um, yeah, it’s kinda fun. Anyways, have you seen-”

“You know, I never liked those colors much, but I actually think that pink quite suits Mingi.”

“M-Mingi! Yes! Have you seen him!”

“Of course I have. I just said: I do like his pink hair. Your grandma’s not a total square, you know.”

“No- It’s- it’s not about the hair, grandmother. It’s about him. Have you seen him. Like. Recently? Is he in my room taking a nap?”

“Mingi? Didn’t he go to the diner with you.”

Wooyoung tries not to groan, “Yes, grandma.”

“Well, didn’t he come back with you? I thought I saw him out in the backyard with you.”

“I’ll… Check,” Woo gives his grandma a quick peck and a thank you before checking his bedroom. Unfortunately, the other’s blanket cocoon is completely vacant.

“What the heck?” Wooyoung mutters to himself. “Where else would he be? It’s not like he’s got a wealth of places to go. He basically lives here. The only other place is…”

Wooyoung’s feet carry him back out before his brain finishes articulating the thought. He shouts a quick “I’ll be back” before bolting out the door and into the woods. Much like the first time he ventured upon the clearing, there’s a sort of unconscious frenzy that guides him through the shrubby woods quickly.

Sunlight filters through the tree branches that survived over the clearing, painting leaves on the ground in shadows and light. Sweat dripping down his forehead and nape, Wooyoung halts at the edge of the clearing. The heat radiating off of the battered hull distorts the area around it, making it appear fake, like stained glass or an impressionistic painting. The cicadas sing and the leaves rustle, but Wooyoung hears no indication of his alien friend.

“Mingi?” Wooyoung approaches the ship. He frowns, idly running his fingers along the heated metal while he thinks. “Mingi, are you here?”

The only answer he gets is the sound of wind between the tree branches along with the persistent drone of the cicadas’ song. 

“Mingi? Mingi, please come out. I’m confused about what happened. I just wanna talk.”

Wooyoung frowns, more and more afraid the alien has truly made scarce with the intention of disappearing for good. His heart drops at the thought of it. Will the wreckage of his ship be all he has to remember Mingi by after all?

  
The shakes his head, resolute. He’s not ready to give up yet. If Mingi isn’t willing to come out, he’ll seek the other out himself, search the woods and maybe even the skies. He wonders if any indication to the other’s whereabouts would be inside the ship. Though the small opening is a challenge, Wooyoung contemplates his best bet at getting in. He carefully climbs the mound of dirt and rubble beside the shipwreck and takes hold of a relatively stable looking hunk of metal. Cautiously, the human hoists himself on top of the alien ship (at least, what’s left of it) and peers inside what would have been the cockpit (or so he presumes).

“I guess it’s silly to think I’d find anything there…” Wooyoung mutters to himself as he walks on top of the thing. It’s decently high off of the ground, not in such a way that it’s horribly dangerous, but it gives him a pleasantly high vantage point of the clearing. Even with the better field of vision, he doesn’t find any signs of Mingi. There’s not a tuft of pink hair or long, lanky limb in sight. “Mingi?” The human starts to mope. “Come out, please? Ugh. There’s no way he’s really gone. Maybe he’s just taking a na-ahh-!” 

Suddenly, Woo’s foot catches a piece of wire jutting out, and his body lurches. When he turns his head, all he sees is the ground, and he barely has time to stick his arms out and brace himself for unpleasant impact. The consolation that this fall won’t kill him is a weak one considering the best case scenario is getting covered in painful bruises.

However, impact never comes.

  
Wooyoung gasps softly when his body stops mid-fall. No, his body doesn’t stop of it’s own volition or ability. It is stopped by something else. Caught, to be precise. Caught by two long limbs. Woo pries his eyes open and his jaw drops with awe. He dumbly mutters, “ _ Mingi. _ ” But that’s about all he can muster when finally faced with the alien’s genuine form.

“You’re so clumsy,” The alien tuts, though his voice doesn’t sound as if it’s coming from any speaking orifice. Wooyoung simply hears the familiar tone in his mind.

“M-M-Mingi, you’re-” Wooyoung had no plans to finish that sentence. He hadn’t even planned the utterances in the first place. Forethought and planning has gone out the window (not to say he had any plans in the first place). Quite frankly, any thought at all is hard to come by. He cannot think but he can see, and see he does. He drinks it all in like a quenched man finding an oasis. All the questions, the theories, the pondering the unknown, and finally he has his answer. Most importantly he has Mingi.

Wooyoung’s heart races as he takes it all in.

It’s hard to know what to look at first, and initially the human’s gaze wanders restlessly. However, it all overwhelms him so quickly, he forces himself to slow down and start with something he recognizes.

Antannaes.

The familiar, feathered things stick out of what is most certainly the alien’s head, sunlight filtering through the tendrils sticking out from the base. Just like the hair of his human form, they’re pink. He’s pink. So, so, pink. A gentle, warm, rosy pink - just like the Mingi Wooyoung knew before. What Woo can only describe as fur extends from the alien’s head and down what he surmises is the neck, almost like a mane. His limbs are long - he is long. So, so tall and lanky. Wooyoung glances over his shoulder and gasps at how high he is off of the ground. What Wooyoung would call arms are long and skinny, covered in pale pink fur and almost articulated, the junction between body parts resembling those of ball jointed dolls. His waist is near nonexistent and precedes fuzzy looking legs. Instead of feet, they seem to taper into little points with claws - in spite of the lack of surface area, he’s perfectly balanced. Massive wings stretch out from the alien’s back. There are six in total, each gradating from a pale pink to something incredibly vivid at the wingtips. They aren’t feathered but appear almost silky. For how gaunt and dramatic his body proportions are, the colors and fuzz on his limbs soften his appearance.

His face is another thing entirely, a strange combination of features Wooyoung can vaguely recognize from other creatures he’s seen in the animal kingdom. He can’t quite tell if he is looking at skin, a skull or short fur. There’s a luminosity to whatever covers the alien’s face. He has… A snout of sorts. It sticks out, though there is no distinct nose at the end, simply nostrils. What could possibly be cheekbones jut out, sharp lines stark against the softness of his pinky mane.

Mingi gently lets Wooyoung down and backs up sheepishly, giving Wooyoung a better look. His antannae droop, and though his narrow eyes are black to the sclera, Woo can see them flit around nervously. He taps the fuzzy little tips of his limbs (there’s no visible indication of there being hands, though there are a couple of long, curling claws) together, fidgeting - all four of them. He has four arms. His wings twitch and flutter, occasionally lifting him into the air only to drop him down a second later.

But, arms, fur, multiple limbs and wings aside - it’s Mingi, alright. The mannerisms and his aura are undeniably him, and that realization tints Wooyoung’s fascination with fondness. Something lights up in his head, and he murmurs without even thinking. “A moth.”

“Wh-What?” The alien’s voice rings clear as a bell in Wooyoung’s head, though the jaw structure never moves.

“N-Nothing,” Wooyoung flushes, hot both from embarrassment and the sweltering summer sun. “So… This is you?”

The alien hesitantly nods, turning away slightly and shielding himself with his silky wings. Awkwardness rolls in quickly. Discomfort radiates off of Mingi almost as intensely as the heat does the summer sun, and Wooyoung has no idea what to say. What is there to say? He hasn’t completely processed what’s in front of him yet. All he can bring himself to do is stare uncouthly, part his lips as he tries to say something, then shut them again when he realizes he doesn’t have actual words.

“A-Are you okay?” Mingi asks timidly after a long spell of silence.

“What?” Woo blinks confusedly.

“A-After that accident. The near collision and all that.”

“Oh. Right.” Wooyoung nearly forgot about the entire ordeal. He’d been so absorbed in the sight of the alien. “I’m fine. It was a shock, but I’m safe thanks to you. Mingi, I owe you so much.”

“It’s- it’s the least I could do, really. You’ve been so kind. I- I apologize! I should go-!”

“Wait- What?”

“You’re right. This form is a shock. I don’t wish to upset you any more.”

“Huh- What, no! Mingi wait-!”

Without further remark, the alien shoots into the sky. The pink dot rapidly fades until he completely disappears in the cloudless sky. Wooyoung frowns with a sigh.

“I was talking about the truck…” He utters to himself.

Wooyoung, dazed and bewildered, stays put for a while, letting it all sink in. So much happened, but ultimately all he can think about is Mingi - the true Mingi. His beautiful, vivid wings and pale fur looked so inviting, he just wishes he could have reached out and touched the other before he fled.

  
Wooyoung had no idea what he was expecting the other’s true form to be, but he certainly never thought the other would be so, so…

Pretty.


	9. Humans, Aliens and Repairs

Wooyoung sighs, unpinning his grandmother’s drying shirts from the clothesline. He purses his lips, annoyed at the way his hair has gotten long enough to be a nuisance without being long enough for a ponytail. He’s contemplating using one of the clothespins to get his hair out of the way when a shadow at the treeline draws his attention.

Woo beams at the presence, “Mingi!”

The alien - in his shifted human form, of course - leans against one of the trees, a wry half-smile across his lips. After revealing himself to Wooyoung, he distanced himself for a few days. Woo almost forgot what summer was like without Mingi, and the reminder was far from pleasant. He rolled around, bored out of his skull, going about chores and occasionally searching the skies for a silky pink silhouette. No such thing came, but after a few days of quiet, the alien did return in his human form. Though Wooyoung told him dozens of times not to apologize (“It’s fine! Also you literally saved my life!”), he still acted like a puppy who’d gotten punished.

“How’s grandma doing today?” The alien asks, approaching to help without a second thought.

“Oh, you know. Same old same old. Tries to do things she doesn’t herself. Almost went up into the attic before I was awake.”

“Oh my. For how frail the human body is, the mind certainly is obstinate, isn’t it?”

“Heh. I guess so. What about you? Been working on the ship?”

Mingi nods with a frown.

“Why the long face? Do you need more supplies. Listen, I’m totally down to go to, like, a big hardware supply store. They have massive ones that are like warehouses. Maybe you can-”

“It’s not going to help.”

Wooyoung stops, his own lips turning down and his heart sinking, “Oh. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” The other sounds the most clipped Wooyoung has ever heard him, taking the human aback.

“Uh- Oh. Sorry.”

Mingi sighs, clutching the silky blouse he’d taken down close like it’s some security blanket, “No. I- I’m sorry, I just-” His eyes gloss over, wet with tears ready to fall, “Wooyoung, I don’t think there is a way to repair my ship.”

“What? Mingi, you can’t give up.”

“I- I am not positive, and I am not giving up, but-” He sniffs, “What if I get stuck on Earth forever?”

“Then you can stay with me forever,” Wooyoung replies adamantly.

“What? That’s- No, I would never want to burden you in such a way.”

“You are not a burden. You’re seriously so helpful. Just your company means a lot!”

“Wooyoung, the summer will end. I know you have another life beyond this. One where I don’t fit.”

“Well- Well, I’ll make you fit,” Wooyoung replies nonchalantly, like taking care of an alien is the simplest thing in the world.

“But-”

“We will find a way, okay? And that’s if you can’t repair the ship. You never know. It could be repaired tomorrow!”

“Right…” The alien nods. He doesn’t sound convinced, but the matter doesn’t come up again. Wooyoung opts not to press it, instead giving the other a comforting hug. Sometimes, actions speak louder than words, and Woo - touchy human that he is - is pretty sure no words can quite substitute the warm, fuzzy feeling of getting hugged. He can’t repair the alien’s ship, but he can at least give him that. A little itch inside his chest reminds him that his intention isn’t completely altruistic, though.


	10. Humans, Aliens and Mating

The rumbling thunderstorm beyond the window provides the perfect backdrop for their impromptu movie night. Wooyoung and Mingi curl up on top of the human’s bed, covered in blankets and surrounded by snacks. Mingi has watched television and movies before, but all of the things he’s been exposed to are basically whatever Woo’s grandma has on. Wooyoung wanted to show the other stuff that he actually likes. He started off with an anime movie which left the alien completely charmed and spellbound. Then, he put on an action movie. Mingi liked it, but some of the violent scenes left the alien unsettled.

To compensate, Wooyoung decided to dig into his stash of old favorites to dig up one of his guilty pleasures: a romcom based off of an old Shakespeare play. Though he has a few regrets picking out something so confusing, the film is fun as hell and silly enough to cheer up the spooked alien. Another thing Woo loves about watching movies with Mingi - and being around him in general, really - is that he doesn’t feel like he needs to hold in his squeaky laugh or hold back his full body reactions. Mingi soaks up the cheer and affection like a sponge, almost basking in it. He mentioned that his culture isn’t very touchy, and sometimes Woo wonders if Mingi is realizing he missed out.

Wooyoung stretches out languidly, brushing some crumbs off of himself. Though he is just starting to feel sleepiness sink into his bones, Mingi appears completely awake and alert. He watches the movie with rapt attention, wanting to soak in every sordid, strange twist. The human’s eyelids start to drop when the other taps his shoulder, jolting him awake.

“Why are they so close?” Mingi asks, gesturing to the screen.

Woo raises his brows as he observes what the other’s referring to. The couple on screen is in bed, spooning. Nothing crazy or out of the ordinary.

“Why are they so close?” He repeats the question. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the sleeping space seems adequate. There’s hardly any need for them to be in such close proximity.”

Wooyoung laughs, “They aren’t doing it because they need to. They’re doing it because they want to.”

“They want to?” Mingi’s nose scrunches. “That doesn’t seem ideal. Won’t their limbs tangle?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s part of the point of cuddling. They just- Couples do it because they wanna be close. It’s a gesture of affection.”

“Oh! Like hugging and kissing!”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Wow. Humans have so many expressions of fondness,” Mingi smiles softly.

“I guess we do. What about where you’re from? What do you do to show affection?”

“O-Oh, we don’t really communicate affection physically. At least, not with close proximity contact like that. It’s more like- Well, we’ll fly patterns around each other or u-um, we might move our wings in a certain way. It is hard to describe.”

“Huh. Interesting. You have those little snouts. You don’t even bump noses or something? If- If you call them noses.”

Mingi laughs, “No! They’re just some olfactory organs, nothing special. No, we express affection other ways with our chosen kin. We don’t even bother with mates.”

“Oh yeah, you told me. You don’t mate with people you really care for, do you?”

“No. Mating is a practical thing not linked to much emotion. I suppose there is some- some arousal and such during the practice, but once you go your separate ways, that’s it.”

“That’s… Kinda cold. At- at least by human standards. But, um, it works for you, right?” Wooyoung nibbles on his lips nervously as he prods. Mingi never really told him what he thought of it. He’s used to it, though, so surely it is his preference. Not that it matters.

“O-Oh, um- Ha- It is certainly a practical way to pass on genes and maintain a healthy population.”

“Hm. Yeah I guess it’s interesting how different we are in some ways,” Wooyoung answers, hoping he doesn’t sound as disappointed as he feels. He can’t even place why he’s disappointed. The other’s preferences for “mating” practices have no impact on him whatsoever. None. Not in the slightest. It’s certainly nothing for him to agonize over.

“I suppose so. But- but I don’t think there is anything wrong with the human way! Perhaps it is not the most fitting for everyone, but- but actually, I think it seems quite nice.”

“Really?”

“Y-Yeah. I think it’s cool. And I have grown used to your affections.”

“Oh. Yeah- Sorry, I- I am a hugger,” Woo laughs sheepishly.

“Do not apologize! It’s nice!” Mingi punctuates the point by wrapping his long arms around Wooyoung and squeezing him close. Wooyoung savors the other’s warmth, happy to bask in the other’s presence and even happier to know the other initiated it.

“Hey, Mingi,” Wooyoung murmurs.

“Hm?”

“Let’s cuddle.”

“Huh?!”

“Yeah. Let’s cuddle,” The human insists more assuredly. “You don’t have to be dedicated mates to cuddle.”

“Oh- Okay! Yes, please. Show me what to do!”

  
Wooyoung chuckles at the other’s eagerness and shifts his laptop over to make space. He prompts the alien to lay on his side before shimmying over to play big spoon (or, since he’s shorter, jetpack). The human wraps an arm around Mingi’s waist and rests his chin on the other’s shoulder, head flooding with warm mirth.

It’s nice, cuddling with Mingi like this, bathing in the warmth of his presence, in the faint scent of forest and sweat coming off of his human skin, in the ripple of lean muscle against his body. Mingi shimmies slightly, adjusting his position only to nestle himself closer to the other human. He sighs contently, and in the white-blue light of the laptop screen, Wooyoung can just faintly make out the shadow of a content smile across the other’s lips.

His chest throbs, and he knows. He almost wants to cry upon acknowledging the truth, the undeniable awareness of self.

He has feelings for Mingi. As surreal, ridiculous, ill-advised and perhaps even foolish as it is, he cannot deny them. He delights in holding the other close and constantly craves the other’s presence. He lays awake at night thinking about the other - his laugh, his mannerisms, the way he talks and the stunning, statuesque form with which he was born. Watching him grow and learn has been one of the greatest pleasures Wooyoung has known in his short life, and certainly twenty times more fulfilling than almost anything he’s ever accomplished.

The human almost wants to cry because of it. Because how could an alien return his feelings? How could any type of relationship possibly work? There’s still a chance that the other will leave, and even if he doesn’t, he does not come from a place where people “mate” for life or even long term.

Things fall quiet between the two, and the movie plays on. Long past the cuddling scene, the two remain interlocked, changing once so Wooyoung is in the little spoon position for viewing convenience. Being wrapped up by the other just makes the pain of deprivation even more excruciating. It’s like they’re so close, yet so far. Wooyoung considers making a move, but that would jeopardize the wonderful friendship they have. It could ruin everything, not to mention confuse the ever living hell out of the alien. What would he make of something like that? He teeters between the yes and no. He’s fairly certain he could singlehandedly drive himself crazy by just thinking about it, going back and forth in an eternal volley of ping pong without resolution.

“Hey, Mingi?”

“Hm?”

“Can… Can I ask you something? It- It might be kinda weird.”

The alien stirs behind him, propping himself up on an elbow to get a better look at the human’s face, “What is it?”

“Um, please don’t be mad. Also, um, I promise you can totally say no. I won’t be mad!”

“Wooyoung, what is it you want? Whatever it is, I’m sure I wouldn’t say no.”

“Well…” The human fidgets with his fingers anxiously for a second before spitting it out, “I- I was wondering if we could try this, cuddling, but, um, like… If- if maybe- I- I kinda wanted to- touch your you form, you know?” Not his finest arrangement of words, but he hopes it got the majority of the point forward.

Mingi pauses, face contorting with bafflement, “My ‘you’ form? Do you mean-”

“Y-Yeah. Your true form. You form. Sorry, I- I don’t know what you want to call it.”

There’s another moment of quiet before an answer comes, “Wooyoung, I- Are you certain? Last time you said it shocked you-”

“For the billionth time I told you, it was the truck that shocked me. You weren’t listening very well, though.” He pouts.

“I am quite tall. Not to mention the breadth of my wings.”

“Aw, c’mon, please? You looked so fuzzy. I didn’t even get to touch you. I wanna pet your fur.”

“Fur? Like- Hair? I do not have fur.”

“You- What? But you looked so fluffy.”

Mingi chuckles, “Those are scales, silly.”

“Whoa. So, are they like, rough and hard?”

“Well, I suppose the texture is rather fine.”

“Is that a yes,” Wooyoung grins.”

“I-”

“Please? Pretty please? It’s the middle of the night, it’s dark, nobody will see you through the window or anything. Please?”

“O-Okay, fine. Just, um, if anything inconveniences you I can shift back.”

“Ohmygosh I’m so weirdly excited to touch your furry scales.”

“You humans really are curious creatures,” Mingi laughs. He scoots back a bit, and suddenly his limbs begin changing. Wooyoung watches as the arms wrapped around him transform, elongating and thinning out into the very articulated limbs he saw before. He feels the other grow behind him, shoulders getting broader, body lengthening. There’s a string thrill in it all, knowing that he’s witnessing something incredible, something literally out of this world, and knowing that it’s just for him. Woo’s heart rate hastens as the transformation reaches completion, and the other adjusts his position again. The human’s heart leaps when a second set of arms wrap around his shoulders, bringing him close.

Scales, fur, or whatever it may be called, Wooyoung nearly squeaks in delight when he feels it against his skin. He’s just as fuzzy as he looks, maybe even moreso, the texture of his fine scales downright silky. This is by far the strangest position Wooyoung has ever found himself in in his life, and something about that just excites him even more. Electricity surges under his skin, and he can hardly contain himself. He wants to bounce off the walls and just wrap his entire body around the other. He wants to bury his face in the alien’s broad chest and perhaps take up residence in the velvety mane permanently. 

For a brief instant, an alarm bell sounds in his head, informing him of how downright strange and borderline perverse his fascination is, but he quickly dismisses it, completely uncaring. Perhaps there are existential questions that could arise, psychological implications stemming from the fact that he is, to put it profanely, turned on by an alien - but what good are those?

“I-It’s not too strange, is it?” Mingi asks bashfully.

Wooyoung turns over in the other’s arms so he can look him in the eye. The alien shies away, turning his head in hopes of obscuring his face from view. Woo shimmies up just so he can assure their faces are level.

“Mingi, you’re beautiful,” The human says. He slowly brings a hand up, grazing the alien’s sharp cheek delicately. It, too, is soft to the touch, perhaps covered with tiny, satiny scales. The movie on the laptop drones on in the background, nothing more than a forgotten light source at this point.

“You- You can’t possibly mean that.”

“I do. Mingi is really pretty- in all forms, inside and out. Thank you for showing me this Mingi.”

“To be completely honest I have no idea what to say, I never expected such a good reaction. I thought you would be terrified or- or disgusted.”

“I mean, the same could be said about you coming to this planet and seeing me. We certainly are different, but I think you’re pretty all the same.”

“What? You? You think I would find you disgusting?”

“Well, I don’t know. I certainly lack the, uh, color you said your kind likes.”

“No! Wooyoung you are so squishy and little and cute!” Mingi gently pokes Wooyoung’s side with a curved claw to punctuate the point. Woo gasps, surprised by the sensation more than anything else. He’s relieved it doesn’t pierce skin or even hurt, really. It’s more blunt than anything.

“S-Squishy?” The human squeaks sheepishly.

“Yes! I love that. I mean- If you feel me, I am just- well, our bodies are armored. Once you get past the scales, it is comparable to bone housing our organ structures.” Wooyoung tests the other’s assertion by pressing a palm against the other’s chest. He’s right. Yes, there is the cushion of scales, but beneath it he feels completely solid. “Humans are very delicate, I think, but that’s part of your beauty. You called me beautiful, but I think you are the beautiful one, to be honest.”

Woo’s head spins at the compliment. It’s not something he hears every day - let alone from big, pretty moth aliens. If someone had told him such a thing would happen over the summer, he’d have recommended they see a doctor. Perhaps the most surreal part is how much he’s enjoyed it. All of it. Not just getting to know what Mingi truly looks like - just being with the other. It’s been so nice. So memorable and different and blissful and challenging in the best way possible. 

  
Wooyoung cuddles up closer to the other, and speaks softly, “Hey, Mingi?”

“Hm?”

Guilt toils in his stomach, but he carries on regardless, “Don’t go.”

“What?”

“Please don’t go. F-From Earth, I mean. Not now. Maybe later you can go, but, I mean- wh-what’s the rush, right?”   
  


“You- you want me to stay?”

“I know, it’s selfish. I’m sorry. I’m- I just- Mingi, I have feelings for you,” He blurts out.

“You have what?”

“Feelings! Like- Like affectionate feelings. Intense, tender affectionate ones. Like romance, Mingi. Not just the fondness I have for friends and family. Like- like how humans feel about their mates.”

The alien goes mute, making worry and regret punch Wooyoung in the stomach. To make matters worse, he can feel the other’s body shrink and constrict, limbs slowly compounding, silken scales retracting until what’s left is regular human skin. Woo’s heart sinks, splintering on its descent into his stomach.

“Wait- I’m sorry, I just-”

“Don’t apologize,” The now shifted alien says, tone deep and soothing. “It’s okay.”

“Just- Just ignore me. I, uh-”

“You didn’t even let me answer,” Mingi chuckles, his hold around Wooyoung persistent and firm. 

“Yeah, but, you- you shifted.”

“Wooyoung, I… I like you, too.”

“You- you do?!”

Mingi nods, “Of course I do. You are adorable, clever, and so unbelievably kindhearted. I- I never expected to meet someone like you when I came to Earth. I thought I was on my own, but you reached out to me in spite of everything.” He brings a hand up to cup Wooyoung’s face; the heat of the contact sinks into Woo’s cheek and runs throughout his entire body. “And you were just- you are so- you are you. I apologize for not having the vocabulary to elaborate well, I just- I- I want to try with you, Wooyoung. I want to be a good lover to you, though I do not know how. I want to appreciate and cherish you.”

The verbose confession sends Wooyoung into another internal frenzy. The rush of pure goodness surges through his veins, making him feel high and dizzy. He clings to Mingi more tightly, fearful that if not for the corporeal anchor he would float into space.

“M-me, too,” Wooyoung barely manages to choke out his response, paralyzed with bliss. “But, why’d you shift, then?”

Mingi chuckles, “Well, in my born form, I do not have lips to kiss you properly.” With that, he grins and leans in. Wooyoung reciprocates excitedly, almost smashing his face against the other’s. Even though Mingi’s technique is bumbling and his manner unsure, Wooyoung melts into the other. He makes a mental note of all the fun things he could show the other but refrains from advancing things too much.

  
They press their foreheads together when they part, simply basking in one another’s presence for a while. 

“Wooyoung?” The alien breaks the spell.

“Yeah, Mingi?”

“I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“It’s about my ship.”

  
Wooyoung frowns, “Oh.” His stomach knots with dread. Here it is. The rug getting pulled out from under him, the sobering sucker punch of reality.

Mingi sighs, “My ship is… It’s never going to be starworthy again.”

“Oh. Wh- Oh. Wait, you mean that- that it’s not working?”

“It is beyond repair.”

“Mingi, I’m so sorry,” And the truth is that he is, in fact, sorry. He acknowledges that his desire to have the other around is entirely selfish, and he would never genuinely wish the other stranded. To hear that the other has no way of getting home at all dismays him. He just wants Mingi to be happy, and surely he would be most happy at home.

“Don’t be. The truth is, I… I don’t want to leave.”

“Mingi, are- are you sure you aren’t being hasty?”

“I am certain, Wooyoung. I want to be here with you, and I have come to like the facets of human existence.”

“That’s- that’s a lot of commitment.”

“Well, I do not have much choice, but even if I did, I know what I would choose.”

“Mingi… You know, for someone who didn’t understand the concept of romance, you really are romantic.”

  
“I- I am?” The alien laughs.

“Mhm. Of course, there are a few things you’ll have to learn.”

“Oh? Of course! Anything. I was serious about wanting to be a good lover.”

Wooyoung laughs, “Yeah? If that’s the case then kiss me, Mr. Serious. You’ve got some learning to do.” He leans in, nuzzling the other before pressing their lips together.

Mingi obliges enthusiastically, and the two kiss from the second act all the way through the credits.


	11. Humans, Aliens and Forever

Bittersweet melancholy fills Wooyoung to the brim as he gives his summer room a once-over. Typically, by the end of the summer, he can’t leave fast enough. His foot is out the door, and he’s left rolling his eyes while his parents draw out their farewell by hours. 

However, in spite of all pattern, prediction and expectation, though the cicadas song did ring steady through the wooded forest, this summer was different.

“You ready?” Mingi asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah. Yeah I think so,” Wooyoung nods, giving the room another quick check. “You remember the plan?”

The alien chuckles, “Of course I do.” He crosses over and plants a kiss on top of Wooyoung’s head. “You get in the car, I’ll shift and I won’t let you out of my sight.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Are you sure you’re going to be okay? What if you lose us?”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

“Will you get hungry? It’s a few hours by car- You- you’ll be able to keep up, right? Oh my god, what if you’re seen?”

“Wooyoung, calm down,” Mingi squeezes his lover’s hands assuringly, “I’m not a drone, okay? I’m an intelligent, adaptable creature. Trust me, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“You know, I always wondered how nobody saw anything when that truck almost ran us over.”

“Maybe one day you’ll find out,” The alien winks. Or, well, tries to. His entire face scrunches, winking with the eye, which just makes the gesture all the more endearing.

“Wooyoung~!” A voice calls from beyond the bedroom. 

“Oh, gosh, that’s my ride. You think they’re for real this time?”

“Well, the sun is going down. I’m sure they’ll want to get going.”

“Oh my god you’re right. You’re right- is it gonna be too dark for-”

“I have exceptional vision at night, my love,” Mingi quells the other’s fear quickly.

The little pet name makes Wooyoung’s heart soar. He holds onto the miniscule memory with a vice. The two have been almost inseparable all summer, just the thought of a couple hours car ride away from him is painful. He has no idea what the future holds - how Mingi will manage to integrate into society, how he’ll be introduced to everyone - but he knows that they’ll do it together. And, somehow, that assures him that everything will be okay.

“Ah! I’m so excited to see more of Earth!” Mingi claps happily, eyes reducing to slits as he smiles widely.

“I can’t wait to show you!”

“Wooyoung~! Come on, we have to go!”

“Ugh- That’s me,” Wooyoung pouts. He makes a kissy face at the alien, prompting the other to give him one last kiss for the road. Wooyoung walks over to the door, keeping contact until he finally passes the threshold. “Okay, see you soon.”

“In a few hours,” Mingi replies. “Have a safe trip.”

“Have a safe flight.” 

“I will. I’m gonna slip out and give the ship one last goodbye, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, you know where this place is, so at any time, you can- I mean, you don’t have to ask me.”

“I don’t want to leave you, Wooyoung.”

“I- I know, but- I’m just saying-”

“I can’t leave the wreckage as it is. There’s too much of a chance that it’ll get discovered.”

“Okay, I just- I know you said you want to stay, but I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“And I don’t. I chose this, Wooyoung. I chose Earth. I chose you.”

“Wooyoung! Don’t make me start counting like I had to when you were a child!” Woo’s mom shouts.

“Oh- Crap- Okay, I- I really, really have to go.”

“Of course. Bye.”

The two share one last quick kiss before Woo scurries out of the room. His heart races with excitement and exhilaration. He knows he’ll spend the entire car ride thinking about things to show Mingi. There is so much to do, so much to see, so many things for him to taste and all the people he has to meet! Wooyoung kisses his grandmother goodbye. Completely preoccupied and floating on cloud nine, he floats into the car. It’s the start of a brand new journey, and he couldn’t be more excited about who he gets to spend it with.


	12. Aliens and Goodbyes

Mingi sighs, running his human fingers along the exterior paneling. The warmth heats the fragile pads of his fingers, nearly burning them after soaking up all of the sunlight overhead. Nervousness thrums beneath the encasement of the human dermis, the beating of the body’s heart quickening. The anxiety toils inside of him, and with it comes a daunting impression of finality.

This is it.

The alien walks around, tracing every little dent, piece of rubble, jagged edge and torn cable he can reach, until finally reaching the opposite end. Mingi takes a deep breath and shifts his human hand into his born appendage. The ship immediately recognizes his signature, a soft light glimmering in response.

A flickering interface projects from the exterior panel, and Mingi mutters his passcode, unlocking the main screen. With a few swipes and a tap of a claw, he’s taken to a soundwave screen. Even though Wooyoung is surely riding in a motor vehicle, Mingi can’t help his paranoia. He scans the clearing, half expecting his human companion to pop out from between the trees. Thankfully, he’s not present. Mingi heaves a sigh, pressing a button and speaking.

“Rubic scouting unit myalphas saturnii reporting from the third sector. It has been ninety cycles since my arrival on this planet. After thorough exploration, I have come to the conclusion that this planet is completely barren and not worth a second thought. The atmosphere provides little protection from the sweltering heat of the sun, and there is no intelligent life to speak of. Sources of sustenance are sparse here. With unforgiving gravity, it is difficult to fly and dangerous.

“It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that the unforgiving gravity of the place is what caused my crash landing. This will be my first and final message to command. This place is not worth a second thought, and would be a waste of resources to even attempt occupation. Do not come looking for me, and allow me to go in peace. It has been an honor serving. Thank you and goodbye.”

Mingi prompts the beacon to send, watching the progress wheel spin until indicating completion. 

“Goodbye,” He mutters. He enters a few more keypresses on the virtual input screen before backing off.

Shifting completely, he takes to the sky, light with relief and elation, excitement and eagerness. He knows it’s a risk, what he’s doing, but he can no longer ignore his heart. He can’t let Wooyoung down, either. And so, he flies up and away, giving his old ship one last goodbye gaze before the self-destruct sequence reduces the pile of metal and parts to dust.


End file.
